Seasonal 2: February

HERE IS the second in my seasonal boxes: February. (To read about January click here.) I am immediately struck by how much more colour there is in this box than in the first one, a welcome sign that spring is on its way…

1. ORANGES. What a jovial winter fruit this is, to be sure! The orange could go in any of the winter boxes, really, but I have tumbled these three beauties in here, as homage to the marmalade I made at the end of January, and in reference to the constant company the oranges keep, with the rest of the fruit in the fruit bowl. I am such a fan of the colour orange. It is the colour of my socks – the colour of a sofa cover that brought zing to the front room for many years before finally fading from view last year – and the colour of the sunrise, tentatively beginning to show its face through my morning bedroom window on the rare days when the rain stays away. Vitamin C for cheerfulness.
2. DAFFODILS.The perfect complement to the jazzy oranges. Not the first of the flowers to appear in late winter/early spring – the clumps of snowdrops and the serried ranks of crocuses come before them – but there are already plenty of these beauties apparent in my little back garden, so they have to get a mention here. I love the way they trumpet their wares! None of the bashful nodding shyness you find in a snowdrop, and larger by far, more present than the crocus, a daffodil just sings its own praises, and promises, in capital letters, that spring IS ON ITS WAY, never fear.

3. ROSEWOOD OIL. Truly a scent of tree, this one, as it is extracted from the wood of Aniba rosaeodora, with the wood chipped and then steamed, to create an exquisite and earthy fragrance. I wear it constantly, but am dismayed to find that it has been massively overharvested, and so they are trying now, to extract the oil from the leaves instead. It is the oil of the root, for me. To feel grounded and settled in the self. Yes, we have flowers beginning to burst through, but February is still very much about the soil and the roots. We have a little more hibernation to go through yet, before the chaos of spring. Nothing about the rosewood is chaotic. All is calm.

4. BRANCHES and LICHEN. Just a few little twiglets from my local walk in Rothwell Pastures here: the remains of some berries, the fronds of green broom, which will yield its own yellow flowers – all in good time, and a short stick with some yellow lichen wrapped around it. It’s still a very ‘sticky’ time of year, after all!

5. LITTLE BOOK of WISDOM. I’ve picked Thich Nhat Hanh from my many meditation books, mainly because of the yellow/orange cover, which seems to fit the theme, but also because he is a root teacher for me – and he writes so simply of being grounded in nature, that his words are a particular comfort in the dark months of the year. He writes in this little book about seeds: the seeds of violence, as well as the seeds of peace. War is very present in the world at the moment, and Hanh knew of its ugliness at first hand, having himself survived the vicissitudes of the Vietnam War. But he was always adamant that we must walk in peace, “that the seeds of peace, understanding, and love are there and that they will grow if we cultivate them.” A simple philosophy, and true.

6. MALACHITE and AZURITE. What fabulous names these two minerals have, like a pair of brothers from the Old Testament, smiting their way through their ancient days with not a whiff of remorse! In fact these two stones have a great affinity, and a powerful healing presence. Azurite is a soft, deep blue mineral, produced by the weathering of copper ore deposits. It has been mixed for pigment in paintings and in jewellery, but it doesn’t keep its colour very well, so is limited in its uses. The ancient Egyptians were fond of it, and it feels rather old and grand to me, with a certain spiritual wisdom in its fading tones. Malachite also derives from copper, and it has a natural affinity with azurite. Glossy and green, it is the earth to azurite’s sky. Traditionally used to ward of danger and fight illness, it is certainly a beauty to behold – and to hold in the hand. There is an elemental strength to it, a brightness of aspect and purpose. Altogether wholesome. Why have I picked these two stones? They sit together on my meditation table, and they remind me of the unity between earth and sky. I am aware of those two elements in late winter, when things are still bare enough to show us the soil beneath and the vast canvas of sky above.

7. TREE of LIFE. There are some glorious old trees in the graveyard across the road from our house. I lie in bed and gaze at them for minutes on end. At this time of year they are like skeletons, holding up the environment around them, and offering perching places for passing birds. There isn’t a leaf to be seen, yet, but by the summer, they will be a mass of billowing green. And this is the marvel of trees – shape shifting creatures, yet keepers also of place. How old must these trees be? Older than any living human, that’s for sure. What stories they might tell. But wisely, they keep their own counsel. They are just there, day in, day out, keeping watch and keeping us steady. There is a necklace I wear around my neck, which I fill with essential oils (often rosewood) on a little pad inside. It is the tree of life. Here it is. And here’s to spring… Not long now.