spring

 Spring is three weeks early this year, they say- a sign of the changing times- climate changing times, that is. Already the roses are appearing, while some late tete-a-tete daffodils are still in bloom. The  'Rambling Rector' rose promises its version of heaven in the next week, with its luscious musky-honey-vanilla scent. If only it went on longer, instead of those glorious three or four weeks of its single flowering.

The urge to blossom and fruit is everywhere. The plum tree promises a bumper harvest, unless rain, wind and birds conspire to rob us. But lest I take all this for granted, I am aware that it comes at a price, and we have little time to pay our dues before climate catastrophe overtakes.

There is  a heedlessness in humanity which ought to be up there with the seven deadly sins, but somehow- probably because of our heedlessness, is not. Jesus rails against it, as did the prophets before him, as do the warnings on so much self-obsession, which obliterates the common good. Our need for more and for 'me' ruins the planet. 

Tis the gift to be simple, tis the gift to be free- and the two go together. In the endless search for personal freedom (from what? for what?), for more (to what end?) for 'me' (when did 'we' become less important?)  the linkage to simplicity has been lost. Such as a simple blessing, repeated year after year- the scent of a mass of roses on the still evening air.