Wednesday, 2 March 2011

March, At Last

"You're listening to BBC Radio 4. It's half past five on Tuesday the first of March."

I was so happy to welcome March into my life yesterday morning. When I heard the above words just as I was sitting down to breakfast yesterday morning, I could have danced for joy: now it can really begin.

It's been a long, cold and tough winter. Since early November I've enjoyed hardly a since milligram of natural light during the week. I always feel that February is there simply to prolong the beginning of spring: it's not even a full month, as if it's been slotted between January and March just to make up time, to allow snowdrops to bloom and birds to return to their native country, all ready for the real unfolding of nature in March. Those 28 days allow exactly the amount of time to bring spring right into place on March 1st, and that's exactly what happened yesterday morning.

For the first time since early November, there was a slight hint of light over the rooftops as I left the house for work. Walking down by the river I was stunned by the chorus; the birdsong has been beautiful over the past week or so, but yesterday it was as if the sky was filled with a sea of invisible birds, all singing different excited melodies to create a dawn symphony that literally made me stop in my tracks. The sun rose on the horizon, paralleling the river and turning the morning mist a pinkish colour as it hung above the water. Everything was tinged with the pink sunrise: the city walls almost came to life, and even the distant passing lorries were rendered beautiful in the dawn light.

It was one of those times of overwhelming euphoria at the somple harmony of the world. One of those times when everything wells up inside you and you just know that you are in the right place, making the right choices. One of those times when it's ok that life isn't perfect and never will be: everything is fresh and ready for the taking.

"Yet still the unresting castles thresh
In fullgrown thickness every May.
Last year is dead, they seem to say,
Begin afresh, afresh, afresh."
Philip Larkin

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