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Spring Daisy Flower

Spring snippets and poems

When does Spring begin?

Spring arrives like a breath of fresh air, signalling the end of winter. It's official start is though the subject of great debate.

The answer depends upon whether you follow astrology, (the stars and planets) meteorology (the atmosphere) or the Celtic traditions.

The celtic traditions were based solely on the daylight and the strength of the moon, and say that spring begins in early February.

The astrologists, who use the stars and planets, say March 21st and the Metorologists use a more measured approach and say March 1st.

In reality in the countryside, spring doesn't of course simply arrive on one particular date! It creeps and develops, gaining in strength and intensity, and it is this wonder of nature that makes it such a joyous time to be out and about in the countryside, and walking. There is something to see all spring, from the earliest shoots and first blooms of the Snowdrop around February, to the later and perhaps more famous spring flowers such as the wild Bluebell, the garlic and the blossoms through into May.

The days begin to lengthen and those rays of spring sunshine are a delight!

Which ever Foot Trails you choose this spring, we use our local knowledge and expertise of rural south west England, researching all your trails to bring you the very best relaxing, indulgent and authentic experiences. Just choose your favourite, or the one that grabs you most. If you would like our help or advice please call 01747 820 626 or email enquire@foottrails.co.uk with your enquiry.

Top walking holidays for Spring:

2011 Spring Guided Walking Breaks
2011 Spring Independent (self–guided) Walking Breaks

Poems and quotes

When daisies pied, and violets blue,
And lady-smocks all silver,
And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue
Do paint the meadows with delight,
The cuckoo then, on every tree
Mocks married men, for thus sings he:
"Cuckoo!
Cuckoo, cuckoo!" O word of fear,
Unpleasing to a married ear.

When shepherds pie or oaten straws,
And merry larks are ploughmen´s clocks,
When turtles tread, and rooks, and daws,
And maidens bleach their summer smocks,
The cuckoo then, on every tree,
Mocks married men, for thus sings he:
"Cuckoo!
Cuckoo, cuckoo!" O word of fear,
Unpleasing to a married ear

William Shakespeare

"There is nothing like walking to get the feel of a country. A fine landscape is like a piece of music, it must be taken at the right tempo. Even a bicycle goes too fast."

Pail Scott Mower

On May Morning
 Now the bright morning Star, Days harbringer,
Comes dancing from the East, and leads with her
The Flowery May, who from her green lap throws
The yellow Cowslip, and the pale Primrose.
Hail Bounteous May that doust inspire
Mirth and youth, and warm desire
Woods and Groves, are of thy dressing,
Hill and Dale, doth boast thy blessing.
Thus we salute thee with our early Song,
And welcome thee, and wish thee long.

John Milton

The Bluebell
A fine and subtle spirit dwells
In every little flower,
Each one its own sweet feeling breathes
With more or less power.
There is a silent eloquence
In every wild bluebell
That fills my softened heart with bliss
That words could never tell

Anne Bronte

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