I love this, and it is, in a way, how I tell time.
I remember vividly in spring 2020, when everything had shut down and there felt like there was no time—or nothing to mark it, I watched the daffodils bloom and the rhubarb leaf out and the forsythia burst into a fountain of yellow. It's how time progressed, and in a time when nothing was normal and I wasn't sure what was normal any more, I'd notice the rhubarb sending out it's first leaf and my Facebook memories would show me within a day, my own wonder and delight in that over a decade.
In Spring 2020, I was pregnant, spending my time caring for my grandparents while my husband found what work he could. On his way home, he’d make note of the hills and their trees, relating to me the changes with each new day. We’ve never experienced spring in quite the same way since. Much more observant, grateful.
This was so beautiful to read, Christianna, and I love how that spring was such a singular moment in time for you, your husband, and your little one on the way.
Sara, thank you so much for taking the time to leave such a beautiful comment -- I loved reading about how you kept time with the daffodils and rhubarb, and how they helped tether you to the world in a time when we were all feeling so very untethered.
There's an expression in Swedish along these lines that I adore. It is “Closed between hägg [a kind of flower that blooms before lilacs do] and lilac”. (”Stängt mellan hägg och syren”.) The story is that a shoemaker posted this on his door, to make it clear to his customers when he had gone on vacation and when he was coming back…
Of course. Unfortunately all of the translations for hägg don't really evoke anything for me in English, so I didn't try to translate. (I think that they included ”bird cherry” and ”hagberry”.). But maybe you could find photos and make one of these beautiful illustrations.
Thank you so much for sharing this, Bette! I'm honored and humbled that you both connected with this story this week. All the very best to you, and to those you work with 🤍🙏
Quite lovely. We don't have very marked seasons where I live, but I think I could still tell the time this way, or learn to do so. Crocuses are heaven.
Thank you, Emma! And I couldn't agree more with you about crocuses -- this is our first spring in Belgium and the first time I've ever seen them bloom, but already I've fallen in love with them. They are heaven indeed 💜
Beautiful! Since moving out to our Maine homestead, we often find ourselves telling time by natural events. Right now, it’s maple syrup season. Also mud season 🤣 Spring Peeper season (the earliest tiny frogs to sing) is nearly here, and there will be Greening Season, Apple Blossom Season, Beach Season…💕
Ah! So beautiful. Spring is so hopeful for me. I like the idea of not relying on man-made ways to determine an old season has passed and a new season is beginning… If we try to live more in the moment, more connected to life around us, we can FEEL the seasons changing.
In my own life, a season is changing for me as I prepare to move back to my childhood state. It’s not marked by calendars but by an inner season of reflection and renewal.
"If we try to live more in the moment, more connected to life around us, we can FEEL the seasons changing." Yes! I love how you put that, Kimber, and I loved reading about how you're marking the changing of seasons in your own life right now as well -- beautifully said 🤍🙏
Beautiful! Here in Tokyo, the plum blossom has mostly fallen and while we wait for the cherry blossom to arrive, we're lucky enough to enjoy some lovely camelias. I love the idea of marking time via the progress of the seasons and the blooming of flowers.
Spring in Tokyo sounds nothing short of magical, and I especially hope you'll treat us all to a sequel to your beautiful essay about plum blossoms once cherry blossom season arrives 😍
By the way, I've been so moved by the comments this week that I'm feeling inspired to bring some of them together into a new collection of community stories. I would love to include your story of spring in Tokyo, but since this wasn't an official callout for stories, I just wanted to make sure you're open to me featuring it? Thank you! :)
Greetings from a snowy spring morning in Tokyo! It's a lovely idea of creating a collection of community stories and I'd be honoured to be part of it. Thank you!
I love this, and it is, in a way, how I tell time.
I remember vividly in spring 2020, when everything had shut down and there felt like there was no time—or nothing to mark it, I watched the daffodils bloom and the rhubarb leaf out and the forsythia burst into a fountain of yellow. It's how time progressed, and in a time when nothing was normal and I wasn't sure what was normal any more, I'd notice the rhubarb sending out it's first leaf and my Facebook memories would show me within a day, my own wonder and delight in that over a decade.
In Spring 2020, I was pregnant, spending my time caring for my grandparents while my husband found what work he could. On his way home, he’d make note of the hills and their trees, relating to me the changes with each new day. We’ve never experienced spring in quite the same way since. Much more observant, grateful.
Beautiful crocuses, Candace!
This was so beautiful to read, Christianna, and I love how that spring was such a singular moment in time for you, your husband, and your little one on the way.
By the way, I've been so moved by the comments to this essay that I'm feeling inspired to bring some of them together into a new collection of community stories here on Dandelion Seeds (just in case you haven't seen them before, here are two previous collaborative posts: https://dandelionseeds.substack.com/p/the-sounds-of-home and https://dandelionseeds.substack.com/p/the-words-that-remain).
I would love to include your story and wanted to ask if you're open to me featuring it? 😊
Absolutely! I can’t wait to take a look at the other collaborative posts!
Yay!! Thank you, Christianna 🤍
Sara, thank you so much for taking the time to leave such a beautiful comment -- I loved reading about how you kept time with the daffodils and rhubarb, and how they helped tether you to the world in a time when we were all feeling so very untethered.
By the way, I've been so moved by the comments to this essay that I'm feeling inspired to bring some of them together into a new collection of community stories here on Dandelion Seeds (just in case you haven't seen them before, here are two previous collaborative posts: https://dandelionseeds.substack.com/p/the-sounds-of-home and https://dandelionseeds.substack.com/p/the-words-that-remain).
I would love to include your story and wanted to ask if you're open to me featuring it? 😊
Oh, I love these collaborative posts. I'd love to have my story included in your next one. ❤
There's an expression in Swedish along these lines that I adore. It is “Closed between hägg [a kind of flower that blooms before lilacs do] and lilac”. (”Stängt mellan hägg och syren”.) The story is that a shoemaker posted this on his door, to make it clear to his customers when he had gone on vacation and when he was coming back…
Maria, I adored learning about this expression -- thank you so much for sharing it!
By the way, I've been so moved by the comments to this essay that I'm feeling inspired to bring some of them together into a new collection of community stories here on Dandelion Seeds (just in case you haven't seen them before, here are two previous collaborative posts: https://dandelionseeds.substack.com/p/the-sounds-of-home and https://dandelionseeds.substack.com/p/the-words-that-remain).
I would love to include yours and wanted to ask if you're open to me featuring it? 😊
Of course. Unfortunately all of the translations for hägg don't really evoke anything for me in English, so I didn't try to translate. (I think that they included ”bird cherry” and ”hagberry”.). But maybe you could find photos and make one of these beautiful illustrations.
I mean, leave out the English flower names and just use illustrations. I love the expression foe exactly the same reason you did this piece ❤️
I work with people who have had strokes. This morning, we read your wonderful piece. It was just what we both needed! Thank you!
Thank you so much for sharing this, Bette! I'm honored and humbled that you both connected with this story this week. All the very best to you, and to those you work with 🤍🙏
I think of this as tree time. Slowing down, noticing each small new change, and after a while the season has advanced from one to the next.
Tree time! I adore that phrase, Robin -- thank you so much for sharing it 💚
By the way, I've been so moved by the comments to this essay that I'm feeling inspired to bring some of them together into a new collection of community stories here on Dandelion Seeds (just in case you haven't seen them before, here are two previous collaborative posts: https://dandelionseeds.substack.com/p/the-sounds-of-home and https://dandelionseeds.substack.com/p/the-words-that-remain).
I would love to include your comment and wanted to ask if you're open to me featuring it? 😊
Love it! Profound. “This is how I want to tell time!” Me too!
Thank you, Gayle! I'm so glad this resonated with you 💚
Aaaahhhh, if we marked time by the natural signs around us, we'd all be a lot calmer.
Yes! We truly would 💚🙏
Quite lovely. We don't have very marked seasons where I live, but I think I could still tell the time this way, or learn to do so. Crocuses are heaven.
Thank you, Emma! And I couldn't agree more with you about crocuses -- this is our first spring in Belgium and the first time I've ever seen them bloom, but already I've fallen in love with them. They are heaven indeed 💜
They're beautiful - and fragile!
Yes! I'm learning that 🤍
Beautiful! Since moving out to our Maine homestead, we often find ourselves telling time by natural events. Right now, it’s maple syrup season. Also mud season 🤣 Spring Peeper season (the earliest tiny frogs to sing) is nearly here, and there will be Greening Season, Apple Blossom Season, Beach Season…💕
I love this, Sydney! Especially the sound of maple syrup season 😍
By the way, I've been so moved by the comments to this essay that I'm feeling inspired to bring some of them together into a new collection of community stories here on Dandelion Seeds (just in case you haven't seen them before, here are two previous collaborative posts: https://dandelionseeds.substack.com/p/the-sounds-of-home and https://dandelionseeds.substack.com/p/the-words-that-remain).
I would love to include your story and wanted to ask if you're open to me featuring it? :)
Oh, of course! Your work is always beautiful, and I'd be honored to be included in any way 💕 Thanks for sharing these posts with me :)
Yay!! Thank you so much, Sydney 🤍
Beautiful. Love this! And yes to tell time by nature speaks to me as well. Thank you.
Thank you, Amy! I'm so glad to hear this resonated with you 💚
Absolutely resonate!!!
I'm so glad to hear you connected with this story, Janet -- thank you! 💚
Ah! So beautiful. Spring is so hopeful for me. I like the idea of not relying on man-made ways to determine an old season has passed and a new season is beginning… If we try to live more in the moment, more connected to life around us, we can FEEL the seasons changing.
In my own life, a season is changing for me as I prepare to move back to my childhood state. It’s not marked by calendars but by an inner season of reflection and renewal.
I always love your essays. So beautifully done!
"If we try to live more in the moment, more connected to life around us, we can FEEL the seasons changing." Yes! I love how you put that, Kimber, and I loved reading about how you're marking the changing of seasons in your own life right now as well -- beautifully said 🤍🙏
Back in the day, this IS how people told time.
Yes! 🙌
I love this story. What a gentle reminder to pause and breathe in the sights and sounds around you. I always savor my time with nature. 🌷
Thank you for your beautiful comment, Nicole -- I'm so glad you connected with this story 💚
beautiful!
Thank you, Jessica!! 💚
Love the Iris flowers
Thank you! 💜
Beautiful! Here in Tokyo, the plum blossom has mostly fallen and while we wait for the cherry blossom to arrive, we're lucky enough to enjoy some lovely camelias. I love the idea of marking time via the progress of the seasons and the blooming of flowers.
Spring in Tokyo sounds nothing short of magical, and I especially hope you'll treat us all to a sequel to your beautiful essay about plum blossoms once cherry blossom season arrives 😍
By the way, I've been so moved by the comments this week that I'm feeling inspired to bring some of them together into a new collection of community stories. I would love to include your story of spring in Tokyo, but since this wasn't an official callout for stories, I just wanted to make sure you're open to me featuring it? Thank you! :)
Greetings from a snowy spring morning in Tokyo! It's a lovely idea of creating a collection of community stories and I'd be honoured to be part of it. Thank you!