“There is a tendency to doubt yourself in the midst of a big leap forward; hold steady and allow yourself to bloom”.
Yung Pueblo
In bloom.
The brimming blossom fell away overnight, like scattered confetti on the ground to reveal fresh green leaves in its place.
Early May was traditionally marked by the ancient festival of Beltane (the mid-point between the spring Equinox, Ostara, and the summer solstice, Litha). The name Beltane is derived from Celtic meaning ‘bright fire’ and although it starts quietly, there is a shimmery, warming quality to this time of year.
The day itself marked the transition between spring and early summer, with fire rituals performed to protect crops, cattle and community, and to encourage fertility, growth and abundance.
May flowers and traditions.
As well as bonfires which were said to yield ashes with protective powers, Beltane was celebrated with high feast days where offerings were made to the spirits, ancestors, gods and goddesses; and houses were decorated with May flowers. Traditionally, primrose, rowan, hawthorn, gorse, hazel, marsh and marigold were placed on doors and windows of homes.
Across Europe, bushes, trees or branches were adorned with bright flowers, ribbons and decorated shells. The ‘May Bush’ could belong to a household or to an entire village where the entire community was involved in decorating the tree.
Bluebell season.
I have spent the last few days feeling drawn to nature both outdoors and in; from a twilight ‘potting on’ session on the garden table for my houseplants (moving them into bigger pots), to making daisy chains in the garden with Lila and Max.
After an (unintentional) hiatus from visiting my magical local woodland, Highgate Wood, I have found my way back there, just in time to see the ground transformed into a carpet of blue. My return to the woods and the emergence of the bluebells is nostalgic and familiar. The reemergence of the same flowers each year feels reassuring and binds us to memories and meanings. Bluebells in the woods whisk me back to the early days of the pandemic when I spent every day walking there with a very small baby Lila cocooned and wrapped to my body in a fabric sling.
Bluebells have also appeared in our garden in the last couple of weeks (I think even more so than last year). They have sprung up between ferns that are slowly unfurling, forget-me-nots and grasses that remind me of the wildness of woodland.
In the garden.
Having a garden has coincided with becoming a mother and these days I can be found pottering in the garden at any opportunity. I love my time there equally for its means of brief respite from the unending requests of two small children; and also for the time I share there with them.
Each day there is something more to see. Today the garden is awash with shades of green and accents of deep purple from the leaves of the Acer and blossom on the Western Redwood tree. Tulips that have held themselves tight in a bud for weeks are finally falling open and full. The clematis, climbing roses and wisteria are adorned with flower buds waiting for the right time to unfold.
This time of the year is for noticing the signs that we are on the cusp of something very beautiful.
