Yesterday I was struck by the delicate and fragile beauty of the white blossom on the trees at church - three columns of loveliness heralding spring. This morning I was woken by the dawn chorus singing out their little bird hearts in praise of the light (or to impress the girls) and a glance from my kitchen window revealed both the vibrant pinkness of newly opened cherry blossom and the aptly named spring-green of new leaves on city trees; soon the roof tops will be masked by a sea of luxuriant greenness. Meanwhile, on my landing my azalea has blossomed early and is a cloud of pink flowers. All of which means I rediscover the joy of adjectives and metaphors as spring reaches the city. Alas the weather forecast for next week is grim, so the delight may be short-lived, but for now I'll just enjoy it.
Comments
I love living in the city. One of the things that always makes me gasp with awe is the way in which spring manages to break through the red brick and grey concrete. A dandelion pushing through a crack in the pavement, a stray daffodil on a patch of grass - and even the dreaded forsythia bushes painting the street.
In some ways, I think spring in the city is more precious than it is in the countryside, where, let's face it, it is everywhere. In the city, as in life, you have to look for the signs of new life and hope.
And aren't they precious when you find them?
Absolutely! Dandelions are among my favourite flowers, and dandelion clocks have special significance in my move to Glasgow (ask me sometime!)
One of my amusing moments on my daily walk to church is a private garden (simlar to the 'squares' in London, don't know of any in Manchester) which is starkly green grass and tarmac paths. On the locked gates are signs that say 'no ball games, no dogs, no cycling' and it feels as if they should also say 'no fun' Yet around the edge of said grim, Victorian bleakness crocusses defiantly bloom purple and gold and white and a few self-set daffodils bloom in the lawns.
Among my most precious college memories is Clare's rosebay willow herb in a crushed coke can as a visual for worship. Something I pagiarised for one of our services here with roses in a paper Starbucks cup. City spirituality seems to embrace this juxtaposition beautifully.
And now I'm waffling!