Blossoming

It’s Bealtaine by the measure of the Celtic wheel. A time of blossom, and the start of summer. Can you feel it in the air? A hint (or more) of warmth?

I’ve been in London for a few days and I was lucky to be staying and working close to some beautiful green spaces. I was not alone in being struck by how much further ahead the plants are compared to home. Someone said London felt ‘tropical’ in comparison with Northern Ireland. I might not go that far…but this was a welcome sight:

There can be a busy-ness to this time of year as the promise of summer beckons. Plans are made (and remade). Work is rushed to completion before holidays begin. I see it in the natural world too. Beautiful, loud bird song. And wee seedlings becoming leggy overnight, after taking weeks (or months) to germinate.

I wrote something about this a few years ago, and I’ve dug it out to read again every year since. There is something about the magic potential contained within a seed. How does it know what to do? It’s a metaphor too, of course.

What wee seedlings exist within you? What might just burst forth into life, given the right conditions? What even are the right conditions for you, for your wee seedlings?

We were in the dark for so long:
waiting;
waiting;
suspended;
inertia.
No prospects.
No hope.
Not even caring, until
the day the light came, briefly,
followed by a warm dark hug.
Surrounded by something willing us on,

our tiny seed souls nourished, and
the whispers we have heard our whole life
start to make sense.
(You will be a tree, you will bear fruit, your ancestors sustained theirs, you are new but exciting).
And we crack open.
Let it all pour in until
we are all of those things
and so much more.