Spring’s Beginning – To The Trees Edition #48

Spring’s first exhalation carries through the lanes of Avalon trailed by a delicate lace of tentative bird song that, along with the early blossoms of plum and thorn, come to rest lightly upon the thick skin of Winter. Spring’s beginning starts with the most subtle of breaths, one that tickles the tiniest hairs, gently pricks the ears, and begins to free up winter’s constrictions – the full extent of which may only be brought into awareness by a complete change of season.

On a recent Sunday walk to the Avalon oak I met a mistle thrush perched proudly right on top of the oak’s crown. The talkative bird had a fair few things to say and sang for the entirety of my visit. He was rattling on about Spring’s arrival, how the oak tree’s buds had started to swell, how the clouds were so low that the big hill had fallen out of sight, and that without the blue sky the daffodils in the hedgerows felt like a dream of spring suddenly lost in winter. He ended with a joyous little song about berries!

I imagine it’s the role of the early birds of Spring to call out the first leaves and blossoms, to rouse the snoozing buds and to set in motion the processes of the new year. I imagine that the green folk are guided at once by the increasing light and warmth but also by the beating drums, whining strings, whistling wind, and choral vocals of Spring’s avian orchestra – nature’s very own wassail. Hazel’s catkins and their tiny pink counterparts. The first leaves of elder and early blossom of prunus. Alder flowers and willow buds, all spark into action at the first appearance of Spring’s song. The same might be said for the humans, or at least for this one; the timely chorus, far from awakening me gradually, lifts me from my Wintery stasis with little more than the first melancholic phrase of the thrush – it penetrates to my very bones, warms my hunkered heart and thaws me from the inside out.

I’m bored of the bleak monotone patchworks, bare fields and flailed hedges – their unchanging presence throughout the winter feels too permanent and adds to the shiftlessness of the season. My senses are ripe for change, I notice the slightest emergence of fresh leaves and flowers like they glow in the dark, my attention is drawn to any new colour that appears in its peripheral like a finely honed spring watching device. Such is the maddening desire for a glimpse of blossom that I begin to wonder whether the flowers arise in response to my longing, and whether they would arise at all if not for my fanatical looking!

There is a fine feeling of relief brought about by the very first sights of Spring – just as memories of warmth on skin and sun in eyes and the smell of green are starting to fade so far into the distance as to make them feel like lost dreams – then is when we first glimpse the Spring. With its fleeting appearances, albeit tentative and inconsistent, comes the sparking of an internal warmth that anticipates the refilling of one’s cup and says, there’s not long to go.

For the time being, I can make do with these glimmers of light, these vague hints, peeps, and misty whispers that call the human to action and provide a point of focus throughout the lingering end of winter – lifting one’s chin with a single finger.

MW – 24/2/24

Imbolc Tree Walk

Tree walks

Public Tree Walks
The Equinox tree walk will mark the start of the season proper, with public tree walks twice a month through November. Dates for Spring walks can be found on the homepage.

Abbey Tree Walks
Start from Sat 2nd March – Tickets from the Abbey website .

Private walks
I have a handful of private walks booked for the coming year, I host private walks for groups, couples and individuals. Contact Matt to arrange your walk.

Visual Diary