…a photo which describes what spring means to me.
That moment when I see the tiny, tentative tips of the clumps of snowdrops in the garden emerging from the ground. Or the joy of walking home from work for the first time in months in the daylight. Or that morning when you suddenly realise that it has been a couple of weeks since you last had to scrape ice off your car. All of these mean Spring to me. But none of them fill me with the same surge of pure, unbridled happiness and hope as my first sighting of a bumblebee.
I find it surprisingly invigorating but also almost hypnotically calming, watching their fat, furry little bodies busily buzzing about, intent on finding their next flower-fix. And I love the fact that their sighting normally coincides with the arrival of warmer, lighter, sunnier days and a profusion of new flowers and greenery in the garden, hedgerows, fields and greenways. Even the alliterative pleasure of saying the name itself – bumblebee. Yes, okay, simple pleasures…I know!
Spring to me is a time of renewal and rejuvenation. The start of a new cycle of growth and life for the coming months. It is almost as if the natural world can’t contain its excitement about it either, and everything starts to blossom and burst forth at once. The re-appearance of the bumblebees to help herald in the new season is one of the greatest pleasures of living in a country with seasons. And one of the things I miss the most living in the tropics now.
So here is my little remembrance of English Spring days, taken on a visit home last year. This bumblebee spent quite some time happily buzzing about the pink bells of the flowering comfrey plants growing wild along the lanes. And with the Spring sunshine on my face, and a new warmth in the air, I was quite happy to just sit back and watch him.