In March

A reflection on that subtle sense of spring that floats in on the wind and pokes its head out of the earth this time of year.

Blushing blossom budding, 
On the apple tree this week. 
Spring pops the sodden film,
And drains away the bleak. 

A growth of wild garlic gushing
Through the mossy cobblelock. 
Biting breaths of fresh cut grass, 
Rings loud the ticking clock.

So we emerge in earnest,
To brace the cold and wet,
And plan with cup in hand,
On how the season will be set.

So certain that they’ll grow and fall
To tarts and cakes this autumn,
We get ahead and fill our beds,
Till winter is forgotten.

---

Blossom on the apple trees in May 2022. In a few weeks our little buds will pop like these with petal and leaf.

Much of these last few weeks have been spent out in our garden as we attempt to prepare the soil, take back control of the grass, and address that wet stain of winter that is left upon the paths or caught up in the corners. We hibernate, quite naturally, when darkness takes hold over the winter months. We step away from the outside and watch it weather the cold and wet from our windows; waiting tentatively for those signs that the warmth of life is coming back.

Those dark months are like a ritual trial that must be endured. One which is both an ending and a beginning; the edges of a cycle in which we are existentially invested. Like the pulse of a heartbeat we listen for the absence between the beats to know we are alive. This absence is winter - a period of trepidation in which we wait and we trust that the beat must stop in order for it to start again.

And so it does.

And it comes on slow and subtle as it surges into its seasons. We smell it in the air, we see it growing out of the branches on the trees and the cracks in the ground, we taste it in the water, we touch it in the wind and catch it on our breath. We feel it coming. We know it is coming. We change, we hope, we grow, we become ambitious and optimistic, we begin to thrive, and seek, and search, and live again.

And so we prepare despite the cold and wet. We leave our shelter in defiance of the dark evenings and unpredictable weather. Encouraged only by the sense that it is time. Now is the time. We anticipate the surge so as to ride its wave and rise with it. Feeling part of it, getting behind it and contributing to it.

And we are ultimately part of it, part of this life beating over and over on our planet. We are evolved to know and recognise it, we have adapted to cultivate with it. And thus we often feel above or removed from it like it is something we use rather than require, as though it is something that happens to us rather than a part of us.

And yet, just as one reaches for the assurance of their still beating heart, we find ourselves looking anxiously from the darkness each year for spring to come and assuage our fears. We are all at its mercy, all just existing and growing and living our beating life on this spinning sphere.

---

Some Spring Reading

I want to also give mention to and recommend some other writing on Substack from the past few weeks that have paid tribute to or been inspired by the changing of the seasons.

Saffron Morter-Laing

explores the subject of cyclical growth in her recent post “Spring”, featuring an intriguing infusion of egg and tongue which she describes as a challenge to “the romantic representations of nature in poetry whilst simultaneously trying to draw an affiliation between the non-human and the human.”

I have also found her description of her efforts “to achieve a viscerality” in the poem enlightening and shows a real depth of thought and consideration in her writing.

Spring

Dublin based

The Sea in Me

celebrates this explosion of life that comes with a new season with images of “blooms”, “confetti leaves” and “butterfly”.

'Risen'

Maya C. Popa

shared this altogether different perspective on Spring from Edna St. Vincent Millay who clearly demands much more of the season:

It is not enough that yearly, down this hill,
April
Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.

And finally, just this week

Pamela Leavey

shared a photographic update on the progress her garden has made this past March. It is an attention to new growth that I can relate to at the moment as we have been busy getting ready for the coming months ourselves. However she also makes reference to that very real challenge of getting out into the elements when the weather and light is not quite there and as we all must take extra consideration for our own personal circumstances before we can fully commit. I for one have been delighted to get a extra hour of daylight in the evening with the clocks going forward last weekend and this will hopefully give us that bit extra time after work to get some gardening done. We will see!

End of March Garden Report