Spring is sweeping in
THE resurrection of the countryside is in full swing. It’s simply wondrous to behold. Luscious wild garlic, crowned with frothy white flowers, mingles with the first flashes of sapphire bluebells on the woodland floor. Blossom blooms from the trees as they ache to turn fully green. The rookery in the beech trees is a chaos of cawing. The verges, full of nettles, cow parsley and dock, appear to grow before your eyes.
Mornings and evenings start and finish with a full orchestra of birdsong and afternoons are soothed by the hum of lawnmowers. The blackbird nest in the laurel hedge has three speckled, pale-blue eggs and, by the end of the month, will be full of voracious chicks. In the fields, the lambs form gangs to race helter-skelter across the turf. There is a sweet freshness in the air; the land has dried, forming cracks in the mud where puddles long stood. Rebirth is everywhere.
Spring is wasted on the young with their mobile phones and endless exams. Spring is for adulthood—a slow appreciation develops into a yearning and, finally, wonder at how many more times you will witness its triumph. MH