The wonder of spring as it starts to bloom. But can we burst out into life again just yet?

Spring in Hokkaido.

Hokkaido is Japan's most northerly, wildest island which is unlike the rest of cosmopolitan Japan.  It experiences Siberian winters which mean frozen seas, deep snow and unimaginable cold.  Inhabitants who stay through this season are rugged, hardy people who are not unnerved by little social contact through these long, dark months.  When spring arrives, it does so rapidly to maximise the shorter season of growth and sunshine.  Snow and ice thaws to quickly reveal a warm, welcoming and hospitable lush, green habitat.  The plethora of wild flowers that thrive in this remote island in the spring are renowned for their beauty.

As I watched a recent documentary about Hokkaido, I wondered what it would be like to live two completely different types of life there?  One of survival and endurance through a bitter Siberian winter and the opposite of Mediterranean-warmth and abundance of nature.  Here in England, as our cold and snowy conditions gave way to clear blue skies and sunshine this weekend, I had a tiny insight into this rapid switch of seasons. 

Out on my daily walk, I have been marvelling at the signs of spring that have burst into life.  There is an abundance of daffodils that look unscathed by the deluge of snow and frost that covered them not so long ago.  Yesterday, I saw my first primrose quietly coming into bloom beneath an ancient oak tree in a sheltered woodland.  In a local pond, I have been witnessing a seasonal phenomenon of a frog festival, culminating in the laying of endless frog spawn.  I noticed it by chance, hearing the soothing sound of a hundred frogs croaking in unison.  As I admired the frogs peeping out cautiously from their secluded habitat, I again wondered how these frogs survived during the snow while their pond was frozen over?

Each sight and sound of spring brings with it a moment of joy and lightness in my heart.  The spectacular blossom on a nearby tree is worthy of many "wows" as I walk past.  As I pause to appreciate the wonder of nature, I am also lifted by the reactions of others.  While I stopped by the pond on my fourth visit last week, a lady paused too.  She said that she had lived nearby for nine years and never seen a frog before there.  As she showed her toddler, I was filled with some cautious hope that if one good thing finally comes out of this pandemic, is that more people appreciate the natural world that we are part of.  And that this connection and appreciation of our precious planet will in turn lead to protection.

While spring is beginning to flourish, it of course raises the question of when can we start to burst out of our houses back out into the world a little more?  The downside of living in a seaside town during a pandemic (when pretty much everything is closed) is that sunshine once again means crowds.  As I peeped out at the sea to see if a swim was still possible, I was shocked by the scene.  A fortnight ago, I was alone in the snow with a couple of seagulls for company for my chilly sea swims.  Yesterday was almost like summer with paddle boarders and numerous swimmers out, more akin to a weekend in May.  People were picnicing as if there is no lockdown in place currently.  As I felt my stomach tense at the sudden intrusion of so many visitors, I had to remember that after a harsh winter, the spring will come with speed and force. 

With Boris Johnson's "roadmap" out of this pandemic being released last week, I felt that familiar dread and tension about rules being eased too quickly.  Of course, many of us are ready to venture out into life again after a long hibernation and to escape our very familiar four walls.  But as I heard our Prime Minister's words, I can't help think haven't we been here before?  Haven't we relaxed too much too soon and ended up with another devastating peak?  Will the vaccine really be enough to return us "back to normal" perhaps by the summer?  I wish I had total confidence, but given the track record of decisions made to-date I am far less gung-ho. 

As throughout this pandemic year, I try to listen to more balanced, hopefully more accurate scientific views.  These tend to not be so blindly optimistic saying we will be able to stop all social restrictions by the summer.  It is as if the PM thinks that we can tick off the pandemic as finished, done, ended, back to normal by the summer for good.  And that creates alarm in me that our leader is missing the point (again).  Bursting into life in a one-track manner is not how life works, as the seasons teach us: things go in cycles, even viruses.  So while we may be able to relax and enjoy our summer more, perhaps it is wise to expect some restrictions finding their way into our winter again?  And, unlike our sudden spring that is happily flourishing, we humans will have to tread much more cautiously back out into the world once again.

"In the rush to get back to normal, use this time to decide which parts of normal are worth rushing back to" (Dave Hollis)