You could hardly have foreseen the beauty and variety of this year's St Brigid's day - as far as the eastern part of the country is concerned, anyway. Brilliant sun. Soft air. And you would swear you could hear the sound of plants growing and blossoming all around you. Primroses were seen; aconites gave a yellow glow to a planting of ash. Quince trees were budding and perhaps the delicate flowers could be out in a day or two. The yew was yellow with its flower buds. To give an exotic touch, a mimosa was all yellow and green in the front garden of a house in Rathgar, Dublin. Honeysuckle over the front door has prolific soft green leaves. Liquidambar has, against all odds, held on to about a score of its leaves, purples and reds. Everywhere you went - slight exaggeration - people were recalling their schooldays by quoting Raftery - "Anois teacht an earraigh" - though not many could deliver the full canon. Ken Whitaker could.
Any birds showing signs of nesting? Rooks are seen vaguely perched their last year's habitations. A magpie, even, was carrying one twig off into the distance. Blackbirds and a robin have been fussing around, but no nest has been found (not that you pry). All this should not allow us to forget that (and these words are written on Monday night) there is some sense in the warning by William Cowper, the 18th-century poet, when he wrote of "our severest winter, commonly called the spring". A jest with just a pinch of truth in it. The records show that early in May 1943 parts of the country had falls of snow, in some cases lying a foot deep. But not for long. Still. And one of the new growing plants that is not welcome is, of course, galium aparinee or cleavers or goosegrass, a sticky climbing menace that was pushing up again just after Christmas. You know the sticky leaves and little balls, all covered with hooked bristles, which children throw at each other? Some say the man who invented Velcro got his idea here. Slight as it is, it grows so fast and long that it can bend down a sapling before you notice.
Finally, an apology to the shade of RLS. He wrote The world is so full of a number of things/ I'm sure we should all be as happy as kings. Here the first line was wrongly given as The World is so full of such wonderful things ... That was another Louis breaking through with his What a Wonderful World. Y