… and it’s supposed to be Spring …

My studio has been taken over by a small cheeky ring tailed possum but the writing has to continue before I implode! 50,000 words in to Grey Weavings now and the pressure to finish is relentless.

For a day or so the Tagasaste smelled like honey and the bees were all over it. Hopefully they’ll get busy in the greenhouse once the tomato seedlings are ready for planting out. Everything is much later this year and even today snow is forecast down to 1,000 and we live at 800! The chill in the air a few days ago was like being cut with sharp icicles across the face and yet plums, cherries, pears and hazelnuts are set and soon the apple will follow…they know it’s supposed to be spring!

Our resident swallows have finished their nest and their little chalice of straw and mud has dried to a caramel finish. The little female looks fat now and spends time between the nest and the veranda post just outside the kitchen window. Soon she will move into the pump house nest where she will lay her eggs and after they hatch, with the help of her mate will raise as many as four fledglings. They are always a beautiful sight lined up under the eaves of the house or across the top of the back door in the sun.

Almost to Beltaine which means potato planting time and soon the air will turn balmy with all the pollens and like a yellow mist the fog grass lifts off the fields, as the slasher moves in for the hay making, which too will be early this year. Then the elder’s umbels will bow down with the weight of their flower heads, changing fast to early green berries, the wild blackberries will burst their sweet fragrant flowers and for Beltaine the Hawthorn will be a cloud of white …once more the air will be scented  with the sweet honey smells of late spring.

…hear the winds calling a sultry refrain
…He’s out and about …a prelude to Beltaine…
…He can be heard in the new rustling leaves
…sending little reminders to tug at your sleeves

…He tells you a story ancient and wise

…listen  to nature, simply listen He cries…

…I am the essence that lives, all unseen
…I am the memory of all that is green
…take up the mantle of earth’s greening time
…smell the wild’s fragrance like fresh summer wine
…come to your circle in Hawthorn arrayed
…I’ll meet you in the Greenwoods where my music is made…

I am usually a positive and expectant person but at the moment, world events notwithstanding I feel as if something is about to go down big time. The sky is lowering and the wind holds strange odours and sounds …it’s not enough that there’s a massive meteor shower and solar flares storms in America and wild fires in NSW here in Australia …hail storms lashed us here in our mountains only the other night …something is happening in the world of man ….and it’s supposed to be spring …blessings …Penny

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