Welcome to my Perching Post.

The Vernal Equinox pulls us into Spring

The Vernal Equinox ushers in a joyful time of growth, rebirth and renewal. With luck, the weather will be turning. The cold gloom of winter will be a memory. Thoughts will turn to the fresh new green foliage bursting forth on the hedgerows and there’ll be a real sense of warmth in the sunlight.

Spring sun arrives at last, bringing light and warmth — *The arrival of spring light brings warmth at last*

This year, Easter peeps around the corner. Beautiful hellebores seem to have a foot in both winter and spring; their alternative names are Christmas Rose or Lenten Rose, perhaps because they flower copiously throughout both seasons. Olive trees now put on fresh vigorous growth. Once it was a tree that could only be grown with tender care in our fickle climate but now they seem to thrive, even if their fruit is not always evident.

The leaves of an olive tree wave gently in the breeze — *Silvery grey leaves of an olive tree wave in the breeze*

The Hellebore gets its name from the Greek and a literal translation gives us ‘injures food.’ The Greeks used the plant as a poison – in food, and by adding it to a besieged city’s water supply. It holds a shadowy place in the flower world – half in spring, half in winter. Legend suggests that it sprang from the tears of a young girl who visited the Christ child at his birth but who had no gift to offer. As her tears fell, these beautiful white flowers sprang into being.

White petals resemble tears from a young girl who found she had no gift to offer the Christ child — *The white petals resemble tears shed by a young girl who found she had no gift to offer the Christ child at his birth*

Another legend claims that witches used the hellebore for flying and making themselves invisible. They would grind the flower into a powder, walk in it – and disappear! An ointment created from hellebore and fat, rubbed into the skin, would enable a witch to fly… or, at least, to believe that they might do so.

A broomstick leaning against a wall awaits its passenger — *A broomstick awaits its passenger…*

But the hellebore also stands for hope. It blooms in the dark of winter to remind us that spring will come and no matter how tough life might be there is something stronger pushing back.

The beauty of hellebores stand for hope — *Hellebores: eternal symbols of hope*

Olive trees are just as fascinating. Fossil evidence suggests that the olive has existed on our planet for between twenty and forty million years. Many ancient specimens exist – indeed it’s quite possible that some of the gnarled old trees in Gethsemane would have witnessed the agony of Christ in the garden just before his trial and crucifixion. The Hebrew word gatshmanim means ‘oil press’ and the name ‘Gethsemane’ means ‘garden with the olive press.’ Olive oil was used for cooking, for providing light and for anointing – it has long been held sacred and of great value.

A glass flask containing a quantity of precious olive oli — *A flask holding a precious quantity of olive oil*

It was an olive twig that the dove brought to Noah at the end of the great flood – ever since sprigs of this beautiful tree have been emblems of peace and reconciliation.

A twig from an olive tree symbolises peace and reconciliation — *Symbol of peace and reconciliation*

One guidebook for the Holy Land describes an olive orchard like this:

The lightest breeze crowns the olive trees with a silver halo that moves like a wave of light over the trees as the wind inverts the leaves. The underside of each olive leaf is covered with tiny whitish scales, while its upper side is green. When the wind rustles the leaves of the olive tree, this contrast of shades produces a unique silvery sheen. The light of the olive tree itself, together with the clear white flame produced by burning olive oil, made the olive the symbol of ‘light of the world,’ a symbol that helps explain Zechariah’s vision of the menorah.’

A family gather around a menorah — *The Menorah – a sacred light*

Look around you as spring advances and delight in all the signs of fresh growth and new life.

A Month of Marching Contrasts

A host of shining daffodils — *Daffodils come crowding in as March bursts in*

March is a strange month – one foot in winter and one foot in spring.

Sudden snow covers the garden — *A sudden coat of snow*

If the sun shines you can really feel the warmth. Turning to face the sun, you can feel the rays caressing your cheek like a gentle blessing. Spring blossom cascades over hedgerows, brightening twigs that have long looked drab over the winter months.

A cascade of blossom on grey twigs — *White blossom brightens the hedgerows*

‘Take note of the courageous daffodils that emerge no matter what the weather throws at them. Now is the time to push our own heads up and out of the soil in the knowledge that we are deeply rooted. It’s time to dare to share our calling with the world, to take risks and journey forth.’ (Louise Press)

A clump of daffodils emerges bavely from the soil — *Brave daffodils emerge from winter’s hard soil*

Plants, bushes and trees put forth tentative shoots and blossom buds – but then, as one writer has said, – ‘March responds carelessly, brutishly, showering them one day in snow, the next in rain, then in warm, glowing, impossibly gorgeous sunshine, then in snow again.’

Solitary figure fighting a way through the snow — *A figure trudges through a sudden fall of snow*

But perhaps the animal kingdom has more faith – March sees the birds beginning to nest.

A bird brings food back to the nest for hungry mouths — *Birds build intricate nests for raising their broods*

Early lambs will be let out into the open.

Young lambs are let out into the open. — *Lambs explore the great outdoors*

Truly, the beginning of spring is gentle and violent; chilly and balmy; joyous and fiercesome. Truly a month of contrasts.

Tulips and boots - symbols of the contrary nature of spring. — *What will spring hold in store for you?*

A Gala of Galanthus…

‘…I tell you, no Palm of Victory or Tree of Knowledge or Laurel of Glory is more beautiful than this little, white, fragile cup on a pale stalk waving in the rough wind.’

so wrote Karel Capek, in The Gardener’s Year in 1929.

A single snowdrop speaks of the promise of spring — *…fragile cup waving on a pale stalk.*

Years have passed since this was written but still it holds true. In the greyness of reluctantly lengthening February days the sight of a carpet of snowdrops lifts the spirits and offers promises of hope and delight as the shy spring flowers gradually and gently unfurl delicate leaves and optimistic blooms.

Masses of snowdrops beside a fallen tree trunk — *A carpet of snowdrops to lift the spirits*

The technical name for a snowdrop is Galanthus, from the Greek word, gala, meaning ‘milk’ and anthos, meaning ‘flower’. Thus we get ‘milk flower’ and, indeed, the pure white blooms resemble upturned drops of spilt milk.

A drop of milk resembles the cup of the snowdrop — *A drop of milk…*

It is a signal that winter’s grip is loosening when snowdrops make their appearance – but make sure you see them in their masses as it is said to be unlucky to see just one solitary snowdrop. Taking them indoors is a portent of an impending death – so enjoy them in their masses and in the great outdoors!

A gleam of sun illuminates a mass of snowdrops — *Enjoy the massed spectacle of snowdrops – but in the great outdoors!*

There is a touching legend that tells how, when Adam and Eve were cast out of Eden, Eve sat crying in the cold bitter wind and hostile environment that now confronted them. An angel took pity on her and breathed on a snowflake, sending it fluttering down to earth. Where the snow landed, snowdrops grew.

What made the snowdrops grow? an angel's breath on a snowdrop. — *Where the snow landed, snowdrops grew…*

In Romania, the flowers are known as ‘Daughters of the Wind.’ Legend has it that each year, the sun returns to Earth at winter’s end as a young girl. One year, Winter didn’t want to let the young girl go. He kidnapped the girl. Her lover fought Winter and managed to free her but was wounded in the process. Where his blood spilled, snowdrops grew.

In Romania snowdrops are called 'daughters of the wind'. — ‘*Daughters of the Wind’*

A German folk legend tells how God sent snow to visit every flower to decide what colour each flower would be. But all the flowers were rude, with the exception of the snowdrop. As a reward, snowdrops were allowed to bloom first – but they had to agree to give up any claim to colour.

The colour of snowdrops - any you like, so long as it's white! — *No colour, but the purest of white*

So, enjoy the pure white carpets of snowdrops whilst they last – more colour is just around the corner!