In hindsight, my previous post about the coming of Spring was a little premature, but given that we apparently reached double-figure temperatures today, I think I’m allowed to have a little celebration that Spring is finally on its way (The Guardian certainly thinks so).
I was down in the Surrey countryside this weekend and evidence of spring was everywhere: the resident duck in my parents’ garden was laying eggs in the flowerpot (not the most sensible of location choices and a cause of much debate in the Tan household as to what to do – apparently it’s a criminal offence to disturb a nesting duck – anyone know??); crocuses and snowdrops were in full-bloom; and everyone was talking about that ‘Lambing live’ show on BBC. A very British sounding Spring if there ever was one.
I arrived back in London feeling a little depressed to be leaving the blossoming countryside but was cheered to find the gorgeous Felicity Brown look book waiting in my inbox. A few of her dresses remind me of flowers beginning to bloom. A fashion nod to the Spring awakening.
And to finish the Spring theme, a poem from the wonderful ‘A Scattering’ by Christopher Reid. I can’t recommend this collection of sad but beautiful poems enough. This particular one captures the feelings of the poet as he experiences the first Spring following the death of his wife.
Flowers in Wrong Weather
Snowdrops, crocuses and hellebore,
which last year must have done their shy, brave thing
unobserved by me, are out again this year.
I was in the garden bagging
tree-trash the gales had flung down the week before
No gardener, even I could tell the job needed doing.
Now it was a too-mild February morning,
The flowers looked misplaced, without some ice in the air
or bullying wind to give them their full meaning.
Or was it just that there was nobody to share
the annual miracle with? Crocuses piercing
the soul with a palpable pang: the dear
droop of snowdrops; hellebore
stoically averted: all missing the welcome and blessing
of the one who had planted them there.