The Return of Spring

This time of year—with the soft emerging bells of blue, the playful twirl of lus na gaoithe, the unfurling green fingers in every hue—always touches me deeply. Life reaching out her tender palm after the great pruning gales of winter.

Life Renewing once again.

Along the old stone ditches a symphony of swaying blooms emerge—rich colours born of dark and scarred soil—an ancient memory of the land awaking, speaking itself into form. An orchestra of Life returns—Singing. Conducted by the hidden hand, the same hand that we might meet in our own depths of winter, when we find that golden thread back to spring.

And I wonder these days, how much of ourselves is too dreaming underground—silently longing for the ripeness of soil, for that trusting moment to burst into form? To unfurl like a fiddlehead. How many bulbs and seedlings are awaiting the conductors fine hand in the soil of our own possibilities?

This time of year, of soft blooms and fronds, goes by so quickly. A blink of the eye and the bluebells disappear back into the deep. Between my paid work, the pressing of flowers & ferns, blending of pestos, making of flower essences, drying of blooms, harvesting of herbs, writing of words, I never seem to have enough time to fulfil all the curiosities of my heart. What a precious time of year, May we savour every drop of it ☺️ 🌿

Written on the 2nd of May 2022