Of all the seasons, spring is definitely my favourite. From around mid January, I start yearning for the Earth to wake up, to display all the delicious blooms and blossoms it has been cultivating in the dark for months. This year my longing for spring has been especially acute, but at last it is almost here.
The first day of spring varies from whether you take a meteorological point of view or an astrological one. (How confusing!?) The meteorologists mark it as the 1st of March and the season ends neatly on the 31 May. It’s the same every year and convenient to measure. Astrologically, though, the beginning of spring varies a tiny bit. Here spring is marked from the occurrence of the vernal equinox -when the sun crosses over the equator and begins its steady climb northward. As the Northern Hemisphere is now tilted in the direction of the sun, the days will become warmer and lighter.
For me, the second makes most sense, tied as it is to Nature’s rather than Man’s calendar. Though we already have some spring flowers – little flags of hope – true spring is not yet with us. Only when the sun is firmly in our quadrant, can we look forward with some certainty to warmer, longer days ahead. This year, spring arrives on Saturday 20th and I am making plans to welcome it.
Spring festival
Spring has been celebrated since time immemorial. And with good reason. Surviving winter in the past was no mean feat: starvation and sickness were the hallmarks of the season. In Poland, where winters are particularly harsh, their spring festival involves a parade carrying a straw effigy of Marzanna – goddess of winter, plague and death – which ends with its ritual drowning in the river. This symbolic death of winter makes way for the the life-giving hope of spring.
In warmer climes, spring is welcomed with exuberance. In India, Holi is celebrated with a riot of colour – mainly on other people. In Japan, families sit under the frothy profusion of cherry blossom, enjoying picnics and this ethereal, passing beauty. In Persia, they begin Nowruz, their New Year. I used to go to a gorgeous Persian cafe in town, which brought the celebration to its customers – including goldish in an ornate bowl, sprouting seeds and, it goes without saying, delicious food.
In the West, of course, our spring festival is encapsulated in Easter. Spring was originally called Lent – a shortened version of the Old English Lencten or the lengthening of days. It became bound with the forty days of reflection and preparation for Christ’s resurrection on Easter Sunday which we call Lent today. The more secular spring became fixed by the sixteenth century. And I like that the season contains both associations.
A time of growth
For true renewal to take place, we need to shed our old layers – literally and metaphorically. As the spring sunshine points out all the accumulated dust and dirt acquired over the winter season, we are prompted to spring clean, washing, dusting, emptying cupboards and discarding the old and the worn.
We may resurrect our spring clothes from boxes in the loft or purchase new ones; we may invest in bigger purchases with the optimism that they will bring a new life of sorts too.
But if we focus only on the material, we are missing the opportunity to spring clean our minds and spirits. Though I do not observe Lent in the traditional sense, I have used this time to increase my meditation and spiritual practice. I am trying (and struggling) with forgiveness. I’ve lived long enough to have been hit by plenty of the ‘slings and arrows’ not only of misfortune but insensitivity, unkindness or indifference. And these are burdens – dark spaces that lurk within me. Spring provides the perfect opportunity to open the windows wide and let the sunlight in. A spring clean of the soul will bring more joy than any tidy cupboard, no matter how well organised.
A time of flowering
My favourite definition of spring is ‘to burst forth’ – as water does from its underground stream; as a coil does when released; as a bulb does once it has pushed its way through the burnt umber earth to explode in the brilliance of the hyacinth or narcissus.
And we too can become these blooms – radiant and giving. Mehmet Murat Ildan put it rather wonderfully when he said, ‘When you smell a spring flower, it’s as if the soul of that flower settles inside you! And then you become that flower for a short time!” It is time to smell the flowers, for a flower is never a bad thing to be.
Its beauty is there for everyone to enjoy. It holds no grudge against the hand that picks it, for spring flowers regather their strength in their bulbs to return next year. Winds buffet them, but they bend and nod their heads. If we learn from them, and take their cue, our spring can be a real opportunity for renewal and rebirth. Part of my spring ritual involves gathering these blooms and inhaling their scent. They will be at the centre of my spring celebration on Saturday. That and planting seeds. It’s time.
