This morning the light through the beeches is the softes green I’ve ever seen, making the world look young and free.
Mum’s baking hands gloved in flour, dad’s gardening hands soil-brown, sun-brown. My boyfriend’s drawing-hands bringing onto paper laughter, tears and a pageful of surprise:
Tea brewing on the stove.
Listening to the flowing, rolling tunes of Julie Fowlis accompanied today by cicadas on the accordion and birds on the fiddle.
May you find spring magic in round warm pebbles, untrodden green paths and dancing trees. And I shall leave you here with one of my silly rhymes:
She stood by the roadside, dust on her knees,
her hair was of brambles, branches and bees.
Her bracelets were lush, her bracelets were green,
her braceletes of birdlime were fit for a queen.
They said she was strange, that she only ate weeds,
they said she was crazy, she’d lost all her wits.
I brought her some flowers, some jolly spring greens,
she tossed them all in a bowl and added some beans.
She gave me an apple, she gave me a seed,
she smiled her raspberry smile:”This is all that you’ll need”.
I gave the apple to the man in the tree,
I planted the seed and watered it deep.
After three months and a day a tree sprung in May.
I danced and I sang:” Hooray, hooray, the Earth has a tree from the hands of a fey.”
It’s fruit is delicious, it’s fruit is so sweet,
it’s fruit is indeed all that I need.