“Important lessons. Look carefully. Record what you see. Find a way to make beauty necessary. Find a way to make necessity beautiful”. (Ann Michaels, Fugitive pieces.)
The intensity of Spring has arrived, regardless of that virus.
Today there was change in the air. Today was different. Many trees are in full bloom, dripping their honey-sweet fragrance slowly into the town where it penetrates the streets, alleys, thoroughfares, laneways, roads, avenues, terraces, footpaths and walkways.
Slowly but surely the scents trickle down into busses, trucks, vans, taxis and cars, using them, as it were, for personal transport, only to surface elsewhere where, unannounced but most welcome, they enter people’s houses, schools, hospitals, restaurants, the supermarkets, Vincent street shops, the Town Hall and churches.
This morning, as if by magic, I noticed a strong difference in the landscape. Suddenly colour has burst forth exploding out of the landscape, (or maybe dropped in from the heavens, heaven knows). Not just a little, not just drips and drabs, but in one immense and generous overall gesture. Not unlike the contents of a whole paintbox being spilled out over the landscape. Reminders also of my god daughter Lutea’s first artworks.
What only last week were colourless empty winter gardens now are filled with smiling golden daffodils’ yellow. What only last week were dark little front yard corners, now are blessed with beautiful blue grape hyacinths reflecting the sky. What only last week were plain Aussie yards, with here and there a dead car, now sport the magical form of the tulip in the magical colours so typical of this magnificent flower. What only last week were naked trees, (so naked that you could see their skeleton, their inner geometry), standing along streets and beside highways, as if waiting for a parade. The same trees feel that it is now high time that they are getting dressed, so they are starting to paint delicate spring dresses onto their branches and as a result creating in the process mottled green shaded thoroughfares.
All these shades of green literally sprouting forth into the newness of the moment.
And I wasn’t the only one who noticed. Everyone was pointing, gesturing and smiling refreshing spring coloured smiles. Photos were taken, sketch books produced. Poetry written, children taken out and bunches of flowers bought.
Today everything begged me to come out, the whole of the landscape asked me to enter it. To stay indoors on a day like this seems sinful. I pack my bag with a bottle of water, some food and my camera and step out of my front gate into the forest to investigate what the spring story is there.
Not quite the same but there are changes, there is a fragrance of freshness. There is a different play of light, there are delicate flowers pushing up through the harsh earth.
Spring is everywhere.
Colour me spring. Moments of inner joy, before the heat and dust of the summer sun will mute the freshness of the this refreshing and colourful display on view.
And all this celebrating the renewal of life. Regardless, and maybe in spite of, that nasty interfering corona virus.
Petrus Spronk is a local artist and regular contributor to The Wombat Post.