First Flowers

Thick fog this morning. Drizzle and greyness. Winter. 

I had to push to get work done at first. But as I got on with jobs, they seemed to become easier, more fun.

By afternoon, the fog had lifted. The sun appeared, and the sky brightened into blue. My heart began to lift. 

I can still see my breath, but it’s 5pm and still daylight. I don’t need as many layers of clothing.

Then, in our little grove, in the midst of a stand of trees past the badger setts, are the first snowdrops. Just one patch, with the rest not quite there yet – but those white heads are here again. They made it. 

Spring is on the way. We can lift our heads and breathe…

Imbolc blessings, my friends.



Today, I am being kept going by literal fuel.

The boiler is faulty, and the house is cold. It might be daffodil-bright outside, but it’s still March in Britain. This morning we fetched in wood from the depleted winter pile, and I worried a lot of creepy-crawlies by rummaging in the coal bin.

So I’ve been working by the bright light and warmth of a lovely fire, puppies sleeping next to me. And the kitchen is fine – so I’m warmed by an amazing home-cooked meal from my talented fellow, and lots of cups of sustaining tea.

We take things for granted until they are gone, but it’s important to appreciate what we do have. Food and heat isn’t just consumed to keep our internal petrol gauge above red – when used well, it can warm soul as well as body.