For the first time in years, I couldn’t find a snowdrop on the 1st February – I think I tempted fate, the trickster, with my last post. Instead I found catkins, dancing on the February wind, everywhere I looked.
The hazel trees along the waterside in Warrington look as if they have been hung with living flame.
At St Michael’s Station, meanwhile, there is a particularly bright and wakeful alder tree that I pass every evening on my way home from work. On Thursday night, it called to me as I walked beneath its wind-blown branches; a sprig of catkins had become dislodged. I caught it, took it home and placed it on our altar.
The encounter with the tree inspired a poem, my first in quite a while – but more about that later…
Finally, this morning, I made time to venture further out into the woods, where I found wild snowdrops already shining bright above the ivy:
…and, on the way home, another early flower I often overlook:
The rest of this evening will be spent reading about moss!