Resplendent Gorse Flowers

There’s coconut in the air. Yet softer, sweeter somehow. As you crunch the gravel beneath your feet you recognise the unmistakable fragrance of gorse flowers. It is the beginning of spring.

Along the country lane you stride, following the scent around the next corner, where you will be sure to see the breaking waves of egg-yolk yellow. And true enough, beyond the rump of a grey-trunked sycamore, stirring from its winter slumber, stretching out burgeoning leaf to touch the cool air, there is a stretch of hedgerow, clothed in glorious gorse.

You pause to take in the sight. You inhale a lungful of perfume. A smile breaks across your face. Finally, winter is vanquished. Spring has arrived.

For a few weeks now, the daffodils have been heralding the changing of the guard. With their golden trumpets, they have signalled the coming pageantry of colour and growth and new life. Even so, you did not truly believe that winter would ever end. But now, as you see the bank of gorse stretching out for nearly a mile, you can truly feel in your core, that it is real.

Somehow, gorse flowers seem to reflect back more light than they receive. They seem far brighter than their surroundings. And it’s true, they soak in the visible light from the sun, and then, thirstily, they steal more—for they also take, quietly, the sunlight we cannot see. The violets beyond violet, the reds beyond red, the clandestine wavelengths no-one talks about, even though they encircle us and wash over us as we walk.

And, like a kind of magic, they weave these wavelengths back into a weft of gold that our eyes can detect, casting them back into the world in a different form.

So it is, as you stand there and bask in their glow, that they seem so much brighter than they ought to be. Aglow with righteous vigour. They stand out from the deep, dark greens of the surrounding leaves, or the grasses of the verge, or the sullen greys of the dry-stone wall, like a queen stands out from her subjects. As if, like an angel, they are illuminated by some hidden sun that still shines fiercely upon them from beyond this realm.

You walk the golden mile, with gorse on either side, ten foot high, feeling somehow baptised by the power and majesty of new life. Amongst the thorns and thickets, robins, sparrows, chaffinches chatter and squabble, flitting ahead of you, always staying three strides in front.

As the lane of gorse gives way to open fields, you feel invigorated. Like a new person. Lambs now frolic either side of you, bleating in soft tones their enthusiasm and playful wonder at every new thing they see.

Spring is a time to be hopeful. Through new life’s eyes and new growth’s splendour we can experience the world anew, and allow our cynicism, our jaded souls to be burnished back into a shine.

As you stand and watch for a while, you allow your surroundings to soak into your depths. Every sound, every scent. And as the breeze ripples over your face and hands, you feel an invitation: “Join us! Join in the revelry of new beginnings. Let it renew you!”

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Try having a 5-minute mindful meditation yourself, wherever you are. You don’t have to be anywhere spectacular. Simply stop everything for a while, take some slow, deep breaths, and begin to open up your awareness to what’s going on.

Let me know in the comments how it goes. What did you experience or feel? I look forward from hearing all about it.

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Listen to this as a guided meditation

Here’s an audio version of this guided meditation, for you to kick back, relax and listen to:

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