Friday 19 March
“It is not yet spring. Spring is being dreamed and the dream is more wonderful and more blessed than ever was spring. What the hour of waking will bring forth is not known, catch at the dreams as they hover.” Edward Thomas, In Pursuit of Spring
What a beautiful day. The sun has been bleaching the bluest of skies, with only the occasional candyfloss cloud drifting by on the cool north-easterly breeze.
It was a day when I couldn’t find enough reasons to stick my head out of the door. Before teaching my ICT lesson, I took my class out for a walk around the multi-use sports area to get some fresh air and sunshine. I know we are in a different time of the year when the reactive lenses of my glasses adjust to almost completely black before heading back inside.
There was much more laughter in the rooms and corridors than normal too. Most of the kids had wider smiles and genuinely found it hard to be angry or miserable. That said, we are all glad it’s the weekend and we have one more week before the Easter holidays. Very much needed.
Spring hasn’t happened yet. For me, and nearly everyone else, it starts tomorrow, a few think we are already nineteen days in. But really it’s tomorrow, the day of the vernal equinox, when the equator is the nearest part of the earth to the sun creating an equal amount of daylight for both the northern and southern hemispheres. Equinox, equal nights.
But aside from the meteorological or astronomical means for deciding a specific date, I believe the start of spring is a period of time and a state of mind. For me it happens whenever I notice difference or feel slightly light-headed by the awe and wonder of it all. Today, this morning specifically, I felt that. It was just great to be alive, to feel alive.
And that is exactly what I take from Thonas’ quote at the start of this post. Today, and other days over the past few weeks, I have felt and inagined spring, and so it was spring. The smiles, the deep breaths of cool, air, the warmth on my face, the light behind my eyelids. And who knows what joy this spring will continue to bring.
The Bald Birder 