Thursday, 3 April 2008

RESPLENDENT SPRING!

A blue sky, clear but for a random scattering of gently metamorphosing clouds, plays host to bleached white gulls. The seabirds laugh and wheel in a seasonally appropriate oxymoronic state of manic nonchalance, utilising the languid updraughts billowing invisibly from city streets stimulated by the first truly warm day of the year.

Far below their raucous cackling, I sun myself greedily, soaking up as many rays as I can before this most fickle of seasons turns it's many faced head to reveal an altogether less clement mien.Today though, a patient breeze has replaced the recent rash or hasty gales. It casually transports tender offerings of mingled light fragrances across the neighbouring environs to my hitherto starved olfactory sense. Tree blossom plays an unlikely bedfellow to warm skin.
Twittering finches alert my gaze skyward again. They commute across the azure with staccato flurries of wing beats which give their flight the look of a shuttle weaving an imperceptible thread under and over through the jet streams miles above them, perhaps manufacturing a simple tapestry upon which the ensuing months will eventually embroider the full heated passion of summer. Love sick buzzards arc and soar in lordly fashion above, their presence betrayed only by their eerie monotonous wails which pierce the erstwhile serenity of the afternoon firmament.

As the evening wanders on towards it's close, illuminated by a decreasing effulgence, the disorganised intricacy of trills and whistles that is blackbird song will echo around the urban environs displaying their territorial intent as they lay claim to the treetops by unremitting aria. The common toad who comes hither to feed on various tiny lifeforms will doubtless appear as is her custom on relatively balmy nights.

For now, my eye is caught by the fiery lily beetle as it prepares to gorge itself on the fresh growth bursting through the soil. I hear bumble bees amble drunkenly through the air on a constant vigil for nectar filled blossoms upon which they can fuel a cool night in waiting for yet another day. I can look on as a sunfly hovers erratically, vacillating violently between the ivy leaves as if shadow boxing for fun.

I love the spring for it's renewed sense of hope and life, it's light and the feeling that something exciting is about to happen.


And I suppose it is, if you count the rest of your life.

12 comments:

lorenzothellama said...

Oh for Heaven's sake Rex, speak bloody English will you. And what's all this effluence you bang on about?

Spring is the best season all year. I've put my geraniums out and now I hear there is to be a bloody frost this weekend with snow, so I will have to bring the buggers back in again.

Viking Warrior said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Magdalene said...

Right: So it was a nice day then? And you went outside and saw some birds and flowers. Lovely.

Thesaurus Rex said...

I heard you get your geraniums out for anybody once you've had a couple of snifters. Incidentally, that is English.
Yes I did see birds and flowers.I took photos, waxed lyrical and generally enjoyed the greatest passtime of them all. Being on the dole, though after a tough half day rconstructing broken shreddies in a pre-raphealite style.

lorenzothellama said...

I won't get my geraniums out for just anyone you know.

Metamatician said...

Resplendent description, my dear dinosaur.

I love spring passionately too as long as it's warm.

Thesaurus Rex said...

Well old bean, spring has been cold mainly, but that day was a welcome break from it.

Metamatician said...

You and Mags seem to be in cahoots lately posting about idyllic frivolities chasing about after ravens and the vicissitudes of the weather, which has been unseasonable warm apparently. It's all starting to make me a bit suspicious. You don't work for the British Tourist Authority do you?

Metamatician said...

Lorenzo, if those Geraniums start to wilt, you must remember to find ET and make him all better.

lorenzothellama said...

If my geraniums start to wilt, giving them a stroke usually bucks them up.

Magdalene said...

Pleeeeze children.

Rob Hopcott said...

TR, I bow my head in awe of your expostulatory epistle.

Yay, I'm truly humbled ...

You've quietened my hyperactive scribblings as an apprentice before a true master of his art.

No longer shall I feel confident to write until I have learned, absorbed and inwardly digested all the words in the Oxford English Dictionary (full version).

I must adieu to commence ...

One may be a while ...