One sound of Spring you keep forgetting, starts again when your neighbour, his cattle released into the fields, turns on the electric fencing. You pick up the beat of the machine on your radio click, click, click, sixty seconds to the minute. From now until God knows when. To be fair, it has to be said that it won't sound on the main station, which is RTE One, being the strongest signal in the area, but tune in somewhere else and the click is with you. As you travel around the country in your car, you will come across it in patches.
But for the real thing a call from Galway reports that the cuckoo was heard not far from Carna on Wednesday, April 24th.
And again last weekend Jack Whaley heard one also and thinks there is usually a cuckoo around his part of Meath. In one particular way, it has been an unusual season everything was held back by the long cold spells and the fierce winds.
Now, instead of coming out in normal sequence (if there is such a thing) so many trees and plants seem to be arriving all together. Like athletes released by the starting gun.
Like dogs from a trap. Thus the old codology Half the oak's before the ash, we're going to get a splash?/If the ash before the oak you're bound to get a soak/ is completely cancelled out because oak and ash, in at least two known places, are both moving well. One old pedunculate oak shimmers all yellow from a distance, with the flowers dangling. Ash flowers are nearly as advanced. But it varies from place to place. And of course, frosts were predicted for this week.
And this is therefore the time for the annual reminder that on May 9th, 1943, on the oath of one who was there, there was, a foot of snow on the barrack square on the Curragh. The censor wouldn't, let anyone know. It was a military secret.
And someone is going to say that the weeds, too, are flourish in.... Yes, but hear this. A friend has a relative who has just recovered from a serious, perhaps life threatening condition. She talks of the beauty of the world as never seen before. Even the weeds, are looked at with awe. Including dandelions, which are, of course lovely. Grumble at the, cold wind, you may, but this is the wonderful time of the year. Springing to life.
If I might see another Spring
I'd laugh to day, to day is brief
I would not wait for anything
I'd use to day that cannot last,
Be glad to day and sing. That was Christina Rossetti.