Symbols of a year passing
18th May 2014
I cannot recall having heard as many Cuckoos as I have this year. Their two note call is heard echoing around every Lakeland valley I walk through. From Langdale to Torver and I every nook and cranny between. They are often seen and heard making their distinctive call from tops of trees and fence posts, the call a tangible statement to the changing year. A new year where everything begins to grow and the world (my world) is lighter and warmer. A symbol of hope and excitement, like the memories of a child playing in a field and all time is forgotten.
"Spring has arrived,
Loudly sing, cuckoo!
The seed is growing
And the meadow is blooming,
And the wood is coming into leaf now,
Sing, cuckoo!
Sing, cuckoo, now; sing, cuckoo;
Sing, cuckoo; sing, cuckoo, now!"
The rest of this verse tells us of the Ewes, the bleating lambs, how the land is becoming greener and full of colour as each tree and flower ascends; there is growth all around us, we grow.
However, there is a sense of anxiety created by an almost tangible understanding that this time is transient, and fast moving away, beyond our grasp: like a child's accidentally released balloon. How hard we try we cannot reach to grab it, it moves on, always beyond our grasp and we have the unfortunate standpoint to watch it drift and diminish from sight.
Acres of Bluebells stills persist in the woodlands and along the valleys, adding so much magic and beauty to the fast flowing Becks and rocky recesses, but they are fading. Already many have started to turn to seed. The clock arms move forward.
As the bluebell (and anemones, sorrel, wild garlic and violets) fades the Yellow Pimpernel, Butterwort, Lugwort and Campion ascend, but they only take the stage for a short time. It seems, after May is passed, we are on a roller coaster, Bell Curve, crescendo of time passing.
I sit here listening to another cuckoo and feel time is passing before it has happened, is this simply the human condition of morning our mortality?......
"Sing, cuckoo, now; sing, cuckoo;
Sing, cuckoo; sing, cuckoo, now!"
"Spring has arrived,
Loudly sing, cuckoo!
The seed is growing
And the meadow is blooming,
And the wood is coming into leaf now,
Sing, cuckoo!
Sing, cuckoo, now; sing, cuckoo;
Sing, cuckoo; sing, cuckoo, now!"
The rest of this verse tells us of the Ewes, the bleating lambs, how the land is becoming greener and full of colour as each tree and flower ascends; there is growth all around us, we grow.
However, there is a sense of anxiety created by an almost tangible understanding that this time is transient, and fast moving away, beyond our grasp: like a child's accidentally released balloon. How hard we try we cannot reach to grab it, it moves on, always beyond our grasp and we have the unfortunate standpoint to watch it drift and diminish from sight.
Acres of Bluebells stills persist in the woodlands and along the valleys, adding so much magic and beauty to the fast flowing Becks and rocky recesses, but they are fading. Already many have started to turn to seed. The clock arms move forward.
As the bluebell (and anemones, sorrel, wild garlic and violets) fades the Yellow Pimpernel, Butterwort, Lugwort and Campion ascend, but they only take the stage for a short time. It seems, after May is passed, we are on a roller coaster, Bell Curve, crescendo of time passing.
I sit here listening to another cuckoo and feel time is passing before it has happened, is this simply the human condition of morning our mortality?......
"Sing, cuckoo, now; sing, cuckoo;
Sing, cuckoo; sing, cuckoo, now!"