For all my promise in January about planning to post every month, I simply ended up with a draft folder of half written posts. Having been so immersed in all things poetry over on Instagram, the cavernous potential of Substack somewhat stopped me in my tracks. I edited, then over-edited, got cross, undid the editing and then lost my thread. And now spring is upon us, bringing with it the desire for change and fresh starts, acting as a reminder that time is ticking.
’s writing sanctuary, Spring Light, starts today and I’m hoping the words will start to flow.Here’s something from yesterday’s warm up -
SPRING CALLED TO ME LIKE… a new chapter of hope. Full of light and excitement after such a grey, washed out yawn of time. Everywhere I look there are signs of growth - green shoots, baby figs, a caterpillar disturbed from its slumber. After the rain, the air is refreshed and order restored. A spring clean of sorts. The need to do, move, be in the moment. The weather changes by the hour - always sun and blue sky when we rise, before the clouds muster rendering the first outfit laughingly obsolete. Rain and hail trail the wind, blowing with all its might. A flurry of white cherry blossom settles, like the first dusting of snow that we haven’t yet had. Grandpa’s hellebores are almost over, their seed pods swollen in readiness for next year, whilst Granny’s iris has its first single stem - tall and rigid, with the tiniest hint of purple on its tip. So much promise. I daren’t waste a moment of it.
Nature often finds its way into my writing - in part because I grew up in a family that loved the outdoors and the wildlife it hid. Whether it was blackberry picking at the abandoned brick kilns or fishing for sticklebacks, having a baby gosling befriend me or watching in surprise as a huge toad lolloped through my grandparents house, nature has always been a part of my life.
Day 1 | Stirring
I COULD SENSE IT ON THE BREEZE… and wondered if others did too. That thrum of energy beneath my feet and in the trees. Of new growth and new life. The birds sing to one another - each with its own pips and chirrups and melodic verse. The bumbles and miner bees buzz busily amongst the crab apple blossom, whilst the dunnock mimicks a mouse, hopping in and out of the geranium leaves at the base of the apple tree. A solitary cowslip, an island in a great sea of moss, lifts its delicate head to the light. The breeze is calm - gently playing with water shoots and leaves, no storm rising. Not yet. And then a cold gust - out of nowhere. A reminder that with spring comes change, blowing in when you are most open to it. Unlike the forced newness of new year when the days are too short and dark to muster the energy to start afresh. Better to grow with the season and unfurl in time with the ferns and bluebells and wild garlic, than to be forced like rhubarb in the dark.
See you back here tomorrow. For more writing and poetry, pop over to catmwrites on Instagram where you’ll find poems about nature, life and everything in between.
Thanks for reading x