writing an ode to spring

I think I write of spring almost the same way every year. April showers. New shoots. Acidic green leaves and the yo-yoing of the changing season; hot one minute, icy cold winds the next. I become a different person as the seasons change - I’m sure we all do in some capacity. But I most love these fresh, bright days - these lengthening evenings, the warmer sunlight on my skin.

From my notes app: cherry blossom petals coat the street like bright pink confetti, as though a wedding party has just passed through.

I love the beauty of spring, the colours of the season so indicative of hot summer days to come. The way the light catches upon the pink and white blossoms and the bright green buds like fairy lights across the trees in the park. We had such a glorious few hot sunny days and then the rain came, the air thickening and thunderous, the smell of cool rain on a hot dry pavement so distinct. Petrichor, that’s the word for it: the earthy scent produced when rain falls on dry soil.

Currently, I’m writing this on my phone from a rural camp spot, something I’ve never attempted for a Substack newsletter - something I’m not entirely sure will actually work (attaching images seems tricky and I can’t put my usual little illustrated sign off in the email!). But I wanted to try to stick to the pattern.

Every two weeks, on a Sunday, something I’ve written, sent off out into the world.

It is lovely to be on holiday. The weather has been kind for Scotland. But it has also been brutally windy, making it very, very chilly. Moving makes this easier; long walks, climbs up mountains, or adventures on ferries, watching the waves from a boat, tours of farms and old buildings with echoey walls.

There’s little on my mind as of now. I feel sleepy and refreshed in equal measure, my cheeks flush from the wind, my hair unwashed from the wild living. It feels surreal to read the news while on holiday somewhere with little lamps skipping past and great cliffs dropping deep into the sea. Hard to understand the world’s nuances and horrors when everything looks so beautiful under the dawn light.

I have three books with me. Perhaps a little ambitious for a twelve day trip which is mainly made up of very active busy outdoor time and doesn’t tend to leave a lot of room for reading. However, although sitting in the sun isn’t quite so possible in May in Scotland this year, I’ve snuck some quality reading time in, currently mainly research for my in-progress-novel (who knows where that will go). But it feels so good to have a focus. To have a why. A Reason, capital R and all. It feels good to feel like, even if I may be leaning back into odd-job life, leaning into an artist existence of never seeming to earn more than enough for a pint at the pub and a cheap holiday, I’m doing something again. Something that makes me feel alive.

And so, bug bitten and wind-burned, I’m writing this, for no reason other than I felt I should. That I wanted to.

Apologies for the numerous grammar/spelling errors and the shortness and meaninglessness of this one. I’m in holiday mode after all. What can I say! I hope you’re well. I can’t wait to write to you more.