Seasonal 3: March

The temple bell stops

but the sound keeps coming

out of the flowers.

(Zen Master Basho)

HERE IS Number Three of my seasonal boxes: March. To read February, click here. So here we are in March. It is still pretty wet and cold, to be honest, but nonetheless – it’s the beginning of spring. These are my selections for the month.

1. A HANDFUL of EARTH. The garden has long been a source of solace and renewal for me, especially since the death of my husband in 2004, after a ten year struggle with cancer. During his illness, and after it, I turned to the earth to heal me, and it didn’t disappoint. In 2007, I wrote a memoir about this process, which took the form of a month by month calendar of allotment and garden events, all of which took on a symbolic as well as earthly significance for me, healing both body and soul. Here is the optimistic beginning to the March chapter:

“It does not matter what the weather is doing. As soon as March begins, then – for me – spring has arrived. I love the seasons of change, autumn and spring, best of all. You never quite know what will happen next. Spring, as its bouncy name suggests, is particularly full of mischief, and I find my self very stirred by its arrival.”

2. SEED PACKETS. After ordering a greedy array of vegetable and flower seeds back at the beginning of January, now is the time to start ripping them open and sowing. I am trying to obey the cycles of the moon this year – just after full moon is best for the rooting plants, and then, when the moon starts to wax full again, it’s the turn of the plants that fruit and flower above ground. Truth is, I am not so good at this, and, frankly, if I am in the mood to sow, then sow I shall, with or without the permission of Lady Moon!

In the picture above we have nasturtium, sunflower, spring onion and chives. All of them have started to sprout nicely, as the end of March approaches. And there are more besides: peas and Cosmos and Scabious; lettuce and radish, too. I love the way the packets carry such colourful and hopeful pictures on them. They seem like little works of art in themselves. Impossible to resist, in the catalogues and on the supermarket shelves. Like glorious grow your own sweeties! I love them all.

3. PUSSY WILLOW. Every year without fail, my mother would collect harbingers of spring, to grace jam jars and little vases around the house. Her favourites were sticky buds and pussy willow. For a long time I haven’t lived near the specific trees that yield such treasures, but since moving to Rothwell in south Leeds, I notice that the terrain is in some ways similar to my childhood Essex home. There are meadows and hedgerows, and, once the endless rains began to abate, leaving the paths through Rothwell Pastures easier to navigate, familiar bushes and trees from those long off youthful days started to make themselves known. In the autumn there were blackberries. And this spring: pussy willow, with its soft cat’s paw branches nestling quietly in the undergrowth. So this is for you, mum – twigs in a little jar, just the way you liked it.

4. SPIRAL SEA SHELL. It’s hard to leave sea shells out of any of my seasonal boxes, because they are a genuine obsession. But I have chosen this one in particular, because the beautiful spiral that runs along its back reminds me of the snail shells that are beginning to appear in the garden – complete with their destructive little occupants, making their slow and inevitable way towards the fresh green shoots I am tending with such care. I am not a fan of the snail. But I have to admit – the pattern on their shells is one of such a perfect, symmetrical, mathematical beauty, that they need to be celebrated, if for that alone. I never kill slugs and snails these days, but they are carefully lifted from wherever I find them, and transported to a part of the garden less likely to be decimated by their greedy, greedy presence. A friend of mine puts hers in a bucket and walks to somewhere local to deposit them safely far enough from their home. But it probably is never far enough, because snails are notoriously good at finding their way back to where they came from – as if following the spiral of their own shells back to the centre. For nature, as we know, always finds a way.

5. CITRINE CRYSTAL. The sunshine yellow of this little stone makes me think of warm spring days – expansive and hopeful and somehow endless. Its name is taken from the Old French word for lemon and its warm colour is seen, indeed, as a gift from the sun. It is, in short, the stone of happiness. Good for emotional and spiritual wellness, it fosters a sense of optimism and hope. And after this long, dark, war-filled winter, I think we all need a dose of its particular shining light.

6. SUNFLOWER. Of course high season for the sunflower, when it is in full shout, is much later in the year, but in the meantime, I take great comfort in sowing its seeds, and as the picture above shows, it is already sprouting a strong little stem and jaunty leaves, only a couple of weeks or so after being planted. My yard garden is far too small to support the giant varieties – although I absolutely love them, and used them often on my allotment, for the sheer joy of their colour and magnitude. But there are many dwarf varieties that bring just as much pleasure, and the one in the picture is ‘Little Dorrit’, which promises a pleasing sunburnt centre and an abundance of yellow petals, worn, like a crown, round the edges. The blurb on the packet tells me that this is “A rather exciting little plant for the border, which will cause intrigue, excitement and evoke comment from all”! In another life, I would have the job of writing these blurbs – although I don’t think I could make a better job of it, to be fair. Anyway, HAPPY SPRING! GO OUTSIDE! Plant a flower and gaze at the buds on the trees, as they spring back to life, in a way that does heart, body and soul all manner of good. Yes, better days are coming – believe it.