Yes.
Every season is unique, and brings with it something Special.
I look forward through the late winter months to the first signs of spring. The blackthorn, daffodils, the blue bells (I would say snow drops but round here they flower in around the middle of December), the buds on the trees, and the first signs of warmth. To be able to take off the thick winter coat, and walk through the woods in just a shirt is a joy. I like to walk the paths and hedgerows of my local area, to note down now where the trees are by their blossom. In spring you can see a blackthorn in flower from half a mile away, come late summer, you may even walk straight past the same bush without noticing. It's a time of promise, a time of beauty. But also a time of lack. The winter stores are running low, and the new season produce is not yet ready to harvest. We have the hungry gap.
As spring progresses and the green develops, to sit in a woodland glade surrounded by wild flowers alive with the buzz of bees. The first fresh greens of the season are coming on now. The garden is a time of hard work, planting and tending. Sewing the seeds that will hopefully see us through to this time next year. But in all this there is the chance to sit in the shade of an apple tree in full blossom, to listen to the birds sing and the bees Buzz, rejoicing in the warmth and potential around us.
As summer progresses, the fields we walk past are turning from green to a golden bronze. The trees shielding us from the sun that beats down. The first seeds sewn just weeks ago are bringing forth a harvest that is incomparable to any other during the year. The first new potatoes, the first lettuce, the first beetroot. I walk the forest, I walk the hedgerows, to watch as things develop. Following as flowers turn to green fruit, as green fruit turns into blackberries. Harvest can begin, laying down stores that will see us through the lean times of winter, hoping there is enough in the larder to see us through the hungry gap next year. This time of year brings a brief lull, between the sewing of spring, and the harvest of late summer. It's a time for company, music, song and beer. Hoppy joys, and elder flower sparkles.
Summer is heading for autumn and the hedgerows are full of produce, nuts, berries, fruit. I spend my evenings in the hedgerows with an icecream tub, collecting the bounty I can before they are over ripe or the squirrels, laying down demijohns of wine, jars of jams, sheets of fruit leathers, crocks of nuts. The days are cooling, the nights are longing, time runs short.
As autumn arrives, and the green trees turn to gold, the final bounty appears, from the chestnuts falling from above in spiky packets, to the fungi rising from the forest floor. To walk among the trees, collecting chestnuts, with a brisk breeze, and then return to a nice warm home and a venison stew. A dark beer, the first of the new season beers. Every year I look forward to the first venison of the season, the chestnuts, and the colours of autumn. But know that this comes at a price. The price of Winter.
If the winter brings snow, it is a time of beauty and joy. Of walks in the woods, trying to capture the beauty on film. But of course this is Britain. Winter rarely brings real snow, instead it brings rain, and wind. Driving us to shelter in the warmth of the home, or the open fire of a warm pub. For good beer and good company. Winter is a time for crafts, carving fresh felled timber, sewing clothes, spinning wool, I like to make gifts for those important in my life, ready for the mid winter celebrations. There is much to do outside, making preparations for next year, harvesting wood, tending trees. But to come back home to a piping hot cottage pie and a dark ale. Sounds idyllic. But soon the perpetual grey and the short days, the lack of sunlight, and the constant worry about whether the weather will keep on the correct side of the roof gets to me and I long for Spring, for blue bells, for trees...
Every season has a character, it's good points, and it's bad. As I have spent more time bushcrafting and gardening I have learned to become more at peace with the seasons where best I can. I still don't like the rainy greys of late winter, and always long for spring. But now in the middle of summer, I dream of autumn walks, hot venison stew, and a nice dark beer.
Julia
