Appleblossom time

My photograph, taken at Turvey Abbey, May 3 2008

I saw the archangels in my apple-tree last night,
I saw them like great birds in the starlight—
Purple and burning blue, crimson and shining white.

And each to each they tossed an apple to and fro,
And once I heard their laughter gay and low;
And yet I felt no wonder that it should be so.

But when the apple came one time to Michael’s lap
I heard him say: “The mysteries that enwrap
The earth and fill the heavens can be read here, mayhap.”

Then Gabriel spoke: “I praise the deed, the hidden thing.”
“The beauty of the blossom of the spring
I praise,” cried Raphael. Uriel: “The wise leaves I sing.”

And Michael: “I will praise the fruit, perfected, round,
Full of the love of God, herein being bound
His mercies gathered from the sun and rain and ground.”

So sang they till a small wind through the branches stirred,
And spoke of coming dawn; and at its word
Each fled away to heaven, winged like a bird.

Nancy Campbell

I’ve just spent a profoundly nourishing weekend at Turvey Abbey, sinking deeper into the sacred, welcoming waters of Benedictine spirituality.

And how fitting to do so surrounded by the full mad blossoming of Spring. It’s as if our Mother Earth goes giddy with delight, her swirling skirts and dancing feet trailing lushly delicate colour with every step.

I slept this weekend in a second-storey room of the guest house, my window opening right into the treetops. I was rocked to sleep by creaking branches, woken by birds flinging their praises to the sky, anchored by community and the wisdom of St Benedict.

One of those times to remember when life seems ugly.

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