My small spring stories.
noticing, collecting and framing a fragment in time.
A warm hello to anyone new here, I’m Lyndsay, mother, creative and storyteller with a background in interiors PR. Story & Thread. is a weekly letter exploring the intersection of creativity, mothering and the living world, with a home and a garden at the heart. I am so glad you have found your way here…
“I am going to try to pay attention to the spring. I am going to look around at all the flowers, and look up at the hectic trees. I am going to close my eyes and listen”.
—Anne Lamott.
Hello lovely one
I hope you are doing ok this week…?
Tomorrow is the last day of meterological spring — it feels to me like we have come a long way since the stark but hopeful earliest days of March, a slow spiral-like unfolding and the end of May greets us with a sense of softening in the scent of rain-drenched roses.
Guided by the idea of beauty being something deeper than what we glance at on the surface, and often the extraordinary masquerading as the ordinary, I am sharing my small stories of spring. By taking time to notice and observe, we can place reverence on the stuff of everyday beauty that is subtly nestled into our lives, and is more important than we know…
Join me on a journey through spring-time.
Winterspring.
Starting in March — a melding of the seasons, a container of change. A month that is not one or the other, or perhaps it is both, with spring keen to move forwards but winter still holding on tight — it is ‘winterspring’.
Equinox.
At the spring equinox, night meets day in eggshell equilibrium until the year rolls forward in a slow-motion somersault. The sunbeams eagerly offer warmth and the living world starts to stir, drawn towards the light.
The creep towards May flowers feels more like a gradual spiral-like unfurling, with a number of hasty retreats along the way. We move back and forth for weeks, with our feet between two worlds, but we are only heading in one direction.
A softening.
May holds softness underfoot and in the air; fullness in the abundance of lush green leaves; and a luminescence as the light grows — and there is still the potential for much much more.
My spring things.
Spring blooms.
chiffon sherbet narcissi on the windowsill, buttery golden hosts of daffodils in the garden and wild drifts at the roadside.
the shy dusky beauty of hellebores and handfuls of fallen magnolia petals.
branches bursting with blossom. A fallen branch from a cloud-like tree making its way into our home and adorning our entrance for weeks until the petals faded, reminding us of the ephemerality of all things.
spring flower and folk tales — daisy, daffodil, bluebell and the lore of goddesses Freya, Persephone, Ostara and Selene.
spellbinding blues of cornflowers, forget-me-nots and bluebells in a misted mirage rising from the ground.
messages from bluebells and the stories they hold (which of your stories are ready to be told?).
sowing seeds of hope into darkness. Waiting, noticing, tending, hoping.
growing sweet peas from seed, a reminder of my wedding day scent.
daisy chains forever (thank you
for starting the trail).the intensity and transience of lilac love.
blousy peonies bringing new realms of beauty.
scattering poppy seeds in deep hope and spotting them carefree in the wild.
the scent of the soft unfurling of a pale pink climbing rose and the first flowers from the gift of a mother’s day rose.
unexpected foxgloves in ombre towers of tubular bells reaching skyward.
ferns unfurling in circles and spirals.
The scent of a soft pink rose. At home.
crumpled linen frilled cushions for our bed.
golden hour light dancing on the wall as the little ones sleep.
the back windows as a moving picture of a garden in spring.
hunting for chocolate (and bunnies) in the garden on Easter Day.
photographs and the remnants of precious past lives.
perfecting (messy) plaits.
playing school and practising for the real thing come September.
my daughter’s rainbow hearts and spelling her own name.
my son’s smile whilst being covered in green glitter paint.
hanging paper flowers “for mother’s day, and father’s day”.
pink doors.
finally hanging some artwork on our walls.
sitting in stillness and wildness on a wisteria-woven balcony.
finding my rhythm alongside spring moons.
spring sounds Slow Spring Days by Emma Ross, Springtide by Sarah Roberts, Sweet Spring Renewal, Holding Stories April by Lauren Barber and Heart Wide & Windows Open by
.these words, and these.
Golden hour light. Out and about.
dreaming in pastel houses and garden squares of Primrose Hill.
finding our way through gardens and glasshouses — Myddleton House, Forty Hall, Golders Hill and OmVed Gardens to name a few.
city park life — Regent’s Park, Finsbury Park, Alexandra Palace park and many more near and far.
seeking (and finding) ceramics and art at COLLECT and Alchemy at OmVed Gardens.
water play, urban beaching and fountain frolics.
finding wildness and solace in the city here, here and here — amid the poppies, irises, long wavy grasses and cow parsley puffs.
wildflowers and ancient woodlands, the ingredients for a perfectly imperfect day.
the joy of feeding lively baby lambs.
walking for ice cream.
etching Grecian sun-shaped and sea-soaked memories to skin and bone.
Wildflowers at OmVed Gardens.
Soul stuff.
gathering together in springtime and witnessing the inner stirrings of creativity in a subterranean garden of ritual, nestled deep in the city with
.in worship of wholeness via
.tasting fullness in cacao-flavoured micro-moments on the garden bench.
tending the soil and giving it space to breathe.
coming full circle in my writing year (thank YOU for being here).
rediscovering beauty as a guiding force.
unearthing visions of a storied home…
a shift within as the light lengthens each day.
finding movement from the inside out.
something new (watch this space).
How are you feeling as we transition from spring into summer?
What are your small spring stories?
Thank you so much for reading — I hope we can chat more in the comments, or of course feel free to send me an email with your thoughts, I always love to hear from you.
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This was such a joy to read after a break from offline life Lyndsay. Much of my spring has been spent finishing the first module of my psychology degree but in those precious moments in between I’ve managed to sow and tend a thriving fruit and vegetable patch and lots of herbs. Having my hands in the earth as often as possible truly has been a saving grace this season ✨
Oh, Lyndsay. This was such a beautiful post. It became a releasing spring ritual for me as I read through all of your memories and experiences and thoughts. I feel as if I have just jumped into summer and this gave me a chance to slow down to relieve and remember my own spring moments. 🪻🫶🏻