At last in the Meadow the buttercups are as tall as my welly boots. The grass is a luscious shade of green, white wings flutter around the cow parsley in front of my eyes, covering every bank of the Meadow with tiny petals of leafy cream. And the birdsong is a melody so crisp and pure it’s as if it touches your very soul. Late Spring Blossoms and early summer Bluebells have arrived at last in the Meadow. . . We’re in June.
I have never felt so glad to see this time of year. Winter was harsh. Cold, bitter and cutting but we sailed through it’s storm with determination for we knew on the otherside of it, was the most beautiful season of all. It awakens us all and brings us back to ourselves. When doubt has grown a little heavy. Low spirits a little intense upon our chests, and the rain seems to have found it’s way into our skin soaking our enthusiasm and gusto – we need our Spring to realign us again.
Words cannot describe perfectly enough how the birdsong sets you free from a moment of worry. Or how sitting on the ground surrounded by a sea of yellow flowers stirs a peace within you. Dandelions are wishes waiting to be blown into the air. The butterflies are welcome guests. A duck wanders past on his way to the river reminding you that nature has a pace of its very own.
The ponies pick green tufts and chew them carefully as they wander from fence edge to every corner of their paddock. They’ve missed the warm breeze. The floral scent in the air and the soaring swallows as much as we have.
To make this season sweeter I have my very own Blossom and Bluebell. Two pony names that couldn’t be more fitting if we tried. Sketched into the land like they are meant to be. And both so beautiful as the flowers and buds themselves.
Without my Meadow. The ponies. My meadow cat – who sits beside me in the grass as I put my thoughts down on paper – like the dearest companion anyone could dream of – without any of this, I’m not sure I would be as much of myself as I am with it.
When you struggle to believe the kind words people say about you, and standing alone makes you feel incredibly self conscious – knowing I have this cushion. This identity. This place that defines the country dweller I am, well, it’s a tremendous anchor. It grounds me. Encourages me. Supports me. My life. My new work. My teaching. My writing. My confidence. It’s a shelter. I’ve filled it with what I love most. My horses and animals. And from that I’ve made a place that has fixed me and allowed me to now try to fix others.
I’m forever thankful for my Bridie’s Meadow. And this time of year, amongst the Blossom and Bluebells in nature and of my own – I’m reminded just how blessed I am to call this place my home.
My next goal – as things grow, thrive and flourish – is to remember that it’s also okay to ask for help now and then. To keep everything beautiful – sometimes a helping hand is the kindest relief in the world. . .