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Spring snippets and poems

When does Spring begin?

The official start of spring is often a subject of debate. The answer depends on whether you follow astrology, meteorology or the Celtic traditions.

The astronomical definition, based on the stars and planets, says March 21st, meteorologists, a more measured approach based on studies of the atmosphere, say March 1st and the Celtic tradition, based solely on the daylight and the strength of the moon begins in early February.

Spring has been creeping forward a few days each decade, and is the mark of the end of winter.

All seasons have their beauty and character, but spring is the vibrant season. Enjoy a rural escape now and you will discover a myriad of colourful wild flowers, hear the bleating of newborn lambs, be able to enjoy the greenness and returning colour of the landscape. Its great for lifting the spirits and getting the body moving again after winter months.

Top walking holidays for Spring:

• Ancient Wilsthire Landscapes (Independent)
• Dorset Jurassic Coast (Independent)
• The Secret Cotswolds (Independent)
• Dorset Jurassic Coast (Guided) - April 5th 2010, 3 nights
• The Bluebell Trail (Guided) - May 7th 2010, 2 nights

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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