For many, the soft wash of bluebells across the woodland floor is the quintessential sign that spring has arrived. Like an explosion of colour after winter’s hush, they stir something ancient in us. But bluebells are just one of many messengers whispering that the world is waking. If you listen carefully, spring speaks in many tongues.
Before the leaves come, the trees blush. Hazel, birch and alder are among the first to bud, with their catkins dangling in the wind. Blackthorn reveal their flowers for the pollinators to indlulge. The hawthorn, typically bursting into blossom around Beltane, is a prominent symbol of the ancient Celtic fire festival.
The sap rises in the trees just as our own energy begins to lift. In folklore, this time was considered a reanimation of spirit and a return of a spiritual force within the forest. Birch trees, often among the first to show signs of life, were symbols of renewal and purification. As the sap rises, it is possible to tap into the trees to collect the subtly sweet, mineral-rich water. It is a tonic said to cleanse and awaken the body after winter. In times past, people would sweep their homes with birch twigs to chase out the old and welcome in the new, making space for spring’s return.
Besides bluebells, look for the humble flowers, close to the earth such as; pale primrose, the sharp yellow flash of celandine, and the sweet violet. Lesser celandine was once known as “pilewort” and used as a spring tonic.
These blossoms are beautiful and serve as reminders of how the earth gently, but firmly, continues its cycles. To the ancient eye, these arrivals were symbols of hope, and indicators of soil temperature rising, bees returning, and edible greens.
Spring stirs the animal kingdom into a new rhythm. The dawn chorus builds daily, with robins, wrens and blackbirds leading the symphony. Frogspawn appears in still ponds, and hares leap in dew-soaked meadows.
In Celtic belief, the hare was sacred to the goddess Ēostre (ever heard of the Easter Bunny?) symbolising fertility, growth and dawn. To see a hare at this time of year was to witness a liminal creature, slipping between worlds.
The spring equinox - around March 20th - is a moment of balance: equal light and dark. From here, the light of the sun grows stronger and life awakens from its deep sleep. In ancient times, this day was a sacred turning point, marked with fire, feasting, and the planting of seeds - both in soil and spirit.
Beltane, celebrated on May 1st, is the fire festival of passion, growth and protection. Fires are lit and feet spring upon the bare Earth. It marks the shift from planting to tending, from planning to action. The world, like us, moves toward a full bloom of colourful expression.
Spring’s wild foods are tasty and they’re deeply medicinal. After months of preserved or starchy foods, our ancestors turned to bitter greens to enliven their bodily systems.
• Nettles: A powerhouse of iron, calcium and vitamin C, nettles reawaken the blood and digestion. They were often the first cooked green of the season.
• Ramsons (wild garlic): Their heady scent is unmistakable. Antibacterial, detoxifying and invigorating, they cleanse the liver and energise the body.
• Cleavers: Known for their sticky cling, cleavers were traditionally used to support the lymphatic system - like a natural internal spring clean.
• Dandelion: Every part is edible, from flower to root. Rich in potassium and a friend to the liver, dandelion reminds us that sometimes the most humble things offer the deepest nourishment.
Only eat wild plants if you’re sure what they are as some have toxic lookalikes. When in doubt, leave it out, or forage with someone who knows their stuff.
These plants don’t just feed us, they wake us up. Their bitterness, aroma, and vitality remind our bodies it’s time to move, to lighten, to grow.
To step outside in spring is to enter a world of signs and symbols, if only we slow down enough to see. The land speaks in blossom and birdsong, in the shimmer of sap and the tug of tides. Ancient people and some still today live attuned to these cues. Perhaps it’s time we all returned to that rhythm, in whatever way we can.
So this spring, when the bluebells appear and draw you into the woods, pause and ask: what else is waking up around me? And what, within me, is ready to bloom?
Comments