Dear reader and, perhaps soon, friend —
This is early spring and I just can’t stay indoors. It’s that utterly magic time when our towns and villages are engulfed in cherry blossom; when the green is seeping across the woodlands and hedgerows everywhere. The first green has just touched the hawthorn, which lines our roads and boreens and the edges of our fields. The green is so fresh that it almost makes my mouth water, as though it were a delicious salad. Does anyone else feel like that? Or am I daft?
In some weeks time those same hawthorn hedges will be resplendent in a foam of white blossom. I suppose that’s why in many parts of the world they call it the Mayflower, because it will be May when the blossom comes. And when it does come, you’d think there had been a fall of snow. I think that’s why TS Eliot referred to real snow on hedgerows as “midwinter spring”.
I deeply regret now how many springs I let slip by in past years, being too busy to stop and gaze. Or rather, thinking I was too busy. And by the time I did stop, the blossoms were on the ground, because spring is part of that Floating World that does not last, which the Japanese call Ukiyo.
But not any more do I let spring slip through my fingers. For no matter how urgent my business, spring is more urgent, since it simply won’t wait for me. Besides, how many more springs do I have?
Would you consider writing to tell me what the green of spring does for you? Please do. You can do it right below here…
Best
— David