Birth · Wildness · Delight
Spring does not return quietly.
It bursts forth.
After the long restraint of winter, the world answers with life. Creeks run again. Hillsides scatter with wildflowers. Animals are born into sunlight, unsteady and bright-eyed. The land remembers how to be generous.
This is the season of movement and play. Children run through fields and long grass. Hands gather flowers. Crowns are woven, daisy chains looped and broken and remade. The world invites participation — not observation.
In old stories and country lore, spring has always been the season when the earth feels close to speaking. When creeks glimmer with possibility. When the natural world seems briefly enchanted — alive with presences just beyond the edge of sight. Not beliefs to be claimed, but stories that remind us the world is more than material alone.
Spring is the season of embodied joy. Life does not return cautiously. It dances. It multiplies. It insists on colour, sound, and touch. What winter made strange, spring makes familiar again — but renewed.
In the Southern Hemisphere, spring is not resurrection remembered, but creation witnessed. The miracle is not past — it is happening now, underfoot and overhead, in paddocks and gardens and creeks.
Spring teaches us how to delight rightly — how to receive abundance without possession, and joy without excess.
It is a season of:
- birth and beginning
- wild growth and colour
- play, movement, and imagination
- joy rooted in the living world
The months that follow trace spring’s bright unfolding — from first awakening to fullness, as the year gathers itself toward summer once more.
“It was spring, and the whole world seemed to be fresh and young and full of promise.” — Frances Hodgson Burnett