A spring prayer for us as writers by Philippa Linton
Almond tree in bloom (Pixabay) Two almond trees bloom outside my office window every spring. Last year, they blossomed in late February, in unseasonably warm weather. But they usually flower in March, before the leaf buds open fully. They're in flower now, and have been for almost a fortnight. I love seeing these fountains of light, flowering pink even before the trees turn green. An explosion of delicate pink blossom against the grey London concrete, reaching up to the white sky. The first blossoms of spring, at least in London. Not cherry blossom: the cherries come later, around mid-April. (In my childhood, they bloomed later, in May. But the climate has warmed since then.) Those two almond trees are the sign, after months of winter starkness, of new life, renewal, resurrection, new hope. That’s what I hope for my writing. And for yours. Winter has its own austere beauty and its own hidden springs of creativity. As Ba...