writes of spring

The skies go grey, then bright, then grey again - British spring is not so much a season as a series of false starts. This week we're going through another cold dip after the brief period of warmth in March that is meant to get a Londoner's hopes up before the April windstorms drench our spirit again.

"real" British seasons, from Reddit

The weather takes turns between grey, wet, freezing, and many combinations of all three. It's starting to wear on me, but I'm happy enough to wrap up in cute winter clothes.

Mahala in freezing London

Most days this month my neighbourhood looks like the set of Wednesday. Old stone, bare trees, skies like soggy laundry left out overnight. Monochrome.

Clerkenwell Parochial School

And yet there is still wildlife, seasonal change, nature to observe. London-based writer Lev Parikian was inspired by the 72 seasons of Japan, based on China's 24 solar terms, to chronicle Britain's own microseasons in a book.

nature out of the box

I've just started this book, which is perfect for early spring. Going through the season as Parikian writes it makes me feel like following a guided nature walk. I loved reading the Japanese observances of Murasaki and the Californian interpretation in East Wind Melts the Ice by Liza Dalby, but this is where I live.

Parikian writes about walking his local parks and streets, trying to avoid the muddy ground and trees dripping frozen water. One of his chapters is called "Rain Sometimes Turns to Hail". It's still quite grim in Britain and most of the trees are bare, but some early birds are beginning to flourish even in the wind and rain.

Instead of fish emerging from the ice, or the water lilies, pines and insects of Japanese nature, Parikian talks about crocuses, daffodils and woodpeckers. One Japanese tradition endures in this blog: We were delighted to find that one of the cherry trees in our neighbourhood has started blooming early, perhaps in competitive spirit with the neighbour's gardenias.

It was like a little island of colour in the grey, and I couldn't stop taking pictures of the blossoms.

I'm not alone - down by St. Paul's Cathedral the cherry trees planted in the viewing park are also blooming, providing even more photo opportunities for tourists.

We get the feeling that sakura fever is just going to get worse as we head into April. 

Birds are also moving into the trees as they begin to come back to life: magpies, bluetits and jays are back. Late one evening I heard a nightingale getting positively operatic in the dark back gardens, and the robins are shameless in approaching humans.

Parikian writes in his book that it isn't the lack of nature that we lose in the city, but the lack of observance: we don't need to watch for the progression of seasons, so we don't notice when snowdrops make way for pansies, or track the wave of trees blossoming across town. "It's the noticing that counts," he says in the introduction.

"All the more reason, then, to find new ways of paying attention, and to give the natural world the respect it so desperately needs." - Lev Parikian