The Scars of a Weathered Winter

Awaiting Spring’s Breath

The winged seeds, where they lie cold and low,

Each like a corpse within its grave, until

Thine azure sister of the Spring shall blow

Ode to the West Wind, Percy Bysshe Shelley

As the sun slips into the Northern Hemisphere, bringing days filled with more light than shadow, we finally bid farewell to the wet and stormy winter. Yet, Shelley's invocation of nature's dual power to destroy and renew resonates deeply as I witness the aftermath of winter in the hillsides and roads around me. Like the 'winged seeds' awaiting spring's breath, our landscape too bears the scars of a harsh season, poised for rejuvenation.

While thinking about how to write on this, I saw

Luisa Skinner

from Writing Around The Edges announce her gentle book club (be still, my beating heart). When I read that the first book would be Weathering by

Ruth Allen

, I realised that was the perfect word to describe what I have seen and felt. The earth and I have both weathered another winter. And while we’re ready to unfurl into …