Daffodils and paperwhites. Freesia and wisteria. Purple, white and blue hygrangeas bursting on bushes. Jasmine – my favorite, sweetly scenting the breezes. And tulips.
Hundreds of them, all over town. A floral sunrise of yellow, orange and pinky-red. Deep inky purple and purest white, tall and properly proud – they’re always the most elegant, those two, especially when standing together.
I’m a Spring Soul. I think it’s serendipity that I moved to the northern hemisphere where the season I was born into is now Spring. It heralds new beginnings, promises light and sunshine, colors are shyly showing themselves and the soft air seeps into my skin and swirls around my bones, gently warming me up from the inside out.
But it’s those springful smells that soothe my soul. Heady jasmine that always makes me smile and tear, tugging the nostalgic strings of my heart where my favorite South African memories live. Wisteria that wafts over me in a cloud of purple when I walk by the Rockridge library, and bunches of fragrant freesia I buy at Trader Joe’s – both take me back to long walks on campus with my best friend, another Spring Soul. She taught me that wisteria is called wisteria, and we would give each other freesia bouquets of yellow and white to fill the jars in our dorm rooms. Her birthday is in the southern hemisphere Spring – where she lives.
We barely had a winter here in California – the sun shone all through December and January, there was no rain, and despite a deluge of water this past week, the snowpack is still dangerously low.
But Spring still sprung. With every seasonal symptom. Color and light and bees and flowers and vibrant greens everywhere. Softly soothing smells. And tulips.