Spring has sprung… or has it started?

While Spring officially started at the beginning of the month back home in Ireland, in Spain we are still in the middle of winter, with the next season only set to start in another month on the 21st of March.

 

the walls of Pamplona dusted with snow

It is, I admit, the height of skiing season, but even here, the daffodils are shooting up and will soon burst buds, the crocuses in the parks are spotting the grass, and I even saw a few daisy and dandelions the other day. The trees are mostly still bare, but showers of catkins have popped out on a few.

my daughter gathering snow for a snowball fight before it melts

Mostly, though, you can just smell it. The air is different. Despite the snow that we had last week, there’s a feeling of spring that even humans living in a city still experience.

Spring is here, as far as I am concerned.

And summer isn’t far behind. For I saw the bats take their first flight of the year and it reminded me of a poem I wrote last year on the subject of signs of summer, more than spring. It’s perhaps a little premature to be thinking about butterflies and bees, but since I haven’t posted a poem in a while, here it is.

 

Signs of Summer

 

There are many signs of summer coming, here,

Starting perhaps with cuckoo calls and swallow sighting

And the return of the swifts, or

The first flight of the bats at twilight,

The scent of honeysuckle through open balconies and

The abundance of butterflies on the garden lavender,

Some are specific to Spain, like closing the blinds

Against sunlight to keep the house cool, and

Sleeping with the windows open all night

Pouring water to fill the swimming pool and others

Seen only in this city: setting up the tombola,

Putting the fences around the flowers in the park

In preparation for the festivals and digging up

The road to get it ready for the running of the bulls,

And lastly, putting up with the stench of piss

Upon opening up the street door every morning.

Red Skies

Waiting For Spring

 

Was a time when I would look for each tiny bloom

Of daisy, dog violet, Veronica and the like along paths

As if searching a stream for gold; each gleam a godsend

Lighting up my life as winter slowly died

After an icy age of snow and bare soil,C and spring sped well,

Bringing joy in the profusion of snow drops and crocuses,

Readying myself for daffodils and primroses.

 

However, as February begins, this year,

I think I haven’t waited quite enough;

Like a child looking forward to Easter

After only just emptying selection boxes,

It lacks lustre, seems not so sweet, even

Unto wincing when I spy a shoot protrude

Too soon, these should be delightful but

They descry the coming sickness

Like the shepherds said of red skies.

 

 

The sky outside my window…. A delight? or a warning?

Sometimes it’s hard to know.

We are having a wonderfully mild winter, when we are happy not to have to wear our woollies and have the heating on full blast… but we know spring is coming too soon to be good, and is more indicative of sickness in our midst…