Spring: Season of Hope; Looking From My Window Onto The Outside World, Finding a Way Through
Our Red, Red Robin
Flutter of Wings
Faint brushing against the windowpane heralded movement, drew my attention to a flash of red followed by a no-nonsense landing. Robin announced his visit, a sharp cadence to say,
“Saw you weeding. Juicy worms? Youngsters to feed. Can’t stop long.”
He left as quickly as he’d arrived, flitting to the open soil at the end of the garden.
For the first time in months, the sun warmed the air, the clear blue sky lifted our mood and the wind had stilled. Blackbirds, sparrows, blue tits, goldfinches and the inevitable clumsy wood pigeons, all responded as Spring switched on the action.
Buds on trees and shrubs alike had longed for this day, coiled ready to spring, to announce the life in their veins. Climbing out of its blanket, coaxed into revealing its hiding place, nature’s wheel had found its momentum. The world was alive once more.
And how! A flurry of activity quivered in the bushes, a cacophony of shrieks and shrills, chirps and chatters, a bursting of feathery busyness crowded the air. A flash of grey-tail drew the eye to search the branches - where did that squirrel go? Seagulls circling above thought there might be early fish and chips on the go, this close to the Easter holidays.
Awakening GardenClick thumbnail to view full-size
Coaxed outside, I sat to face the trees, lofty willows swaying in the gentle breeze. I closed my eyes to savour the warmth on my skin. The cold, wet, windy Winter, drenching our mood only last week, had departed. My body, my heart, was awakened to this new beginning, this hope which dominated my world.
Lavenders replanted out front, raspberry old-wood pruned, peony bud ready to show its deep red velvet splendour, Forget-me-Nots’ blue peeking through. Mixed yellows, Forsythia and puff-ball Mallow, startled the back fence. All these followed the trumpeting daffodils of a few weeks back, bobbing their acknowledgement of almost-Spring.
Early bees buzzed, one hovered behind me, asking me what I’m doing in his domain. No time to bask, no time, break through the branches, balance the air, need the nectar! New leaves rustled, filling in the gaps, hiding the nests where eggs are being nurtured, new fledglings on the brink.
Now we can take a breath of Spring, pause, savour, then launch ourselves into the reawakening of our lives.
Light, Renewal, Perspective
Self-isolation has been all I’ve thought about, bombarded by news of world disease. Slowly, this sudden Spring is light upon the darkness, this lifts my soul. Hope, nature’s renewal, is in the air. Little by little, I feel my own renewal, the wheel of my life turning towards a bright, hopeful future. Life will kick back, refreshed, with a new perspective, a new purpose.
It’s a wonderful emotion, hope. It encourages us to do things, keeps us going when we might give up, spurs us on to a better life. We are more inclined to turn to others, help them, talk to them, when we have a purpose, a reason to live.
Hope will see us through, despite all sorts of problems. Hope will inspire others too. For me, the best inspiration is the hope that Spring instils, the evidence of renewal and the proof that life will keep on turning, following its true course, surprising each year with its beauty and energy.
One of my favourite birds, both male and female robins are similar in colouring and feed on insects. The males are territorial and aggressive, sometimes to the death. Having a high death rate in their first year, they have an average life expectancy of only just over one year. However, should they survive that first year, they can live much longer, even into their teens!
Known for its presence in the garden, this cheeky chappy will watch from the fence if you are weeding or digging and swoop down to grab any grubs you might uncover. I’ve known one to perch on the fork handle as I dug. The high-pitched chirping is distinctive, a cheery sound to accompany your endeavours.
The robin is of course associated with Christmas, especially for the decoration of cards. This could arise from the fact that our British postmen, in Victorian times, wore red jackets and so were nicknamed ‘Robins’, depicted on the card as an emblem of those who delivered them. They are certainly a bright and cheery sight to lift our mood during Winter.
This was in response to a practice prompt in Bill Holland's (billybuc) Mailbag series, an invitation to use effective description, instead of ‘The robin landed suddenly on the windowsill.’ Thanks for the inspiration, bill! I hope this helps to lift the present mood a little…
What inspires you?
© 2020 Ann Carr