Spring forever appears
the soothing music part
of lyrics unspoken.
It thaws the frozen fears,
mends the wounded heart
that Winter has broken.
Tomorrow is the national holiday of Ireland, St Patrick’s Day. As is the norm., the weather is promised cold and a little unpredictable in terms of snow, rain and wind. Here at Bealtaine Cottage the march of Spring continues unabated.
Spring makes its own statement, so loud and clear that the gardener seems to be only one of the instruments, not the composer.
~Geoffrey B. Charlesworth
As always, the mornings here are filled with promise and, usually, sunshine.
Ribes sanguineum have exploded into a bright pink fuzzy life, enticing the solitary Bees to awaken from hibernation.
Their heady aroma moves through the trees in a binding spell of delight.
It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold: when it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade.
~Charles Dickens, Great Expectations
Awake, thou wintry earth –
Fling off thy sadness!
Fair vernal flowers, laugh forth
Your ancient gladness!
~Thomas Blackburn, “An Easter Hymn”
Hazel Catkins add a yellow hue to a backdrop of blue.
I’ve banished Winter, saith the Spring,
Awake! arise, ye flowers!
Brisk breezes blow,
Bright sunshine glow,
And rouse the young Year’s powers.
~Henry James Slack (1818–1896)
Despite March’s windy reputation, winter isn’t really blown away; it is washed away. It flows down all the hills, goes swirling down the valleys and spills out to sea. Like so many of this earth’s elements, winter itself is soluble in water…. It is a wet world, winter’s harsh grip beginning to relax…. An outcropping ledge on the hillside sheds its beard of icicles and becomes a seep spring that drips into a shallow pool that feeds a growing runlet.
~”Washing Winter Away,” The New York Times, 1964 March 17th
Now when the primrose makes a splendid show,
And lilies face the March-winds in full blow,
And humbler growths as moved with one desire
Put on, to welcome spring, their best attire…
~William Wordsworth, “Poor Robin,” March 1840
And so by degrees the winter wore away… and the chill, bitter, windy, early spring came round. The comic almanacs give us dreadful pictures of January and February; but, in truth, the months which should be made to look gloomy in England are March and April. Let no man boast himself that he has got through the perils of winter till at least the seventh of May.
~Anthony Trollope (1815–1882), The Chronicles of Barsetshire
March brings breezes loud and shrill,
Stirs the dancing daffodil.
~Sara Coleridge (1802–1852)
I hope you enjoyed this feast of Spring…Blessings X Colette
“A Cottage and Three Acres,” by Colette O’Neill
Please email Colette if you would like a particular inscription in your book.