Spring Light

Some Fieldnotes

I was fortunate enough to take part in

Beth Kempton

Spring Light seven day retreat last week. I love the way she approaches the writing process – it is very freeing, no worries about the end product. I did most of my writing in my notebook – words flow more directly from the hear that way. But I promised myself I would go back to what I wrote and polish it up a little for my Substack. But not too much. There is something I like about the sparkle and bounce of words which haven’t been filtered and mediated too much.

So here are some of my jottings with thanks to

Beth Kempton

and all  the Spring Light participants for making it such a joyous writing experience.

To me Spring means Life, new beginnings, daffodils in the orchard, fresh linen and light curtains, swallows return, green, blue, sunlight, blackbird singing to dusk, skylarks, walks, cowslips, lambs, sap rising, Easter, the Holy well, Christ is Risen, holidays, energy, weeds and flowers,  upthrust, rhythm, pulse, tadpoles, Beltane, blackthorn followed by hawthorn, greenest of green grass, seed sowing, sweeping away the old, open windows, light, air, breathing, joy, arms upflung to greet springtime, baby rabbits, Flora arriving on a train of flowers, rainbows, showers, life. snowdrops – daffodils – tulips. Plum blossom – cherry – pear – apple. Cowslips. A greenhouse full of seedlings, a line full of washing. Daisies on the lawn and dandelions in the cracks. The first taste of asparagus.

All this comes in a never ceasing torrent, arriving and passing so quickly  you have to grasp at every moment, never stop noticing.

And the light. The inimitable Spring light. Clear, like crystal, blue and green and lemony. Light breaking through the clouds, sharp light, cold sparkling new fresh light. Light in the bowls of the tulip blooms – they hold the light like a fresh red wine. Intermittent, fragmented through the leaf canopy, coming and going between the clouds. Light to be celebrated, light breaking through the grey, demanding something of me. Precious light – every moment to be cherished after months of darkness. Sunlight in slabs on the walls of the summerhouse. Light you lift your face to, try to capture, move into. Light which makes me want to roll in the grass then lie on my back and watch the clouds fast across the blue.

The sounds -  Great Tit incessant in the hedge, the soloist in the garden this week. The robin’s song silver, pure, sparkling, like the air through which the notes fall. The low burbling of woodpigeons canoodling on the fence. Skylark’s sudden ascent which always stops me with a shock of joy. Poetry and music are woven into the song, centuries old joys, we are linked by the cascade of music. Charm of goldfinches flying erratically over the garden. The chirping of bluetit chicks in the nesting box. The golden song of the blackbird, true and ancient and beautiful so that my heart is touched no matter how many times I hear it. Chiffchaff calling his name, time and time over. Low invocations of rooks across the fields. The wind in the trees, more insistent than I would like. Traffic noise I would prefer to ignore and almost didn’t mention. What does that say about me?

It's been fun to shape a piece lightly and to let my notes stand for themselves. I hope other posts will come out of Spring Light and soon I will be able to share some exciting news – something I have been waiting what seems like my whole writing life for. Have a wonderful light filled day.