ALMOST
EASTER!
Being
a countrywoman, my mother still lived by the changes of the seasons,
even though we lived in south east London not far from the north
western edges of Kent. One treat we always looked for each year, was
the blooming of the daffodils in the woods behind Less Ness Abbey, in
the spring.
The
monks had built their abbey on a high green promontory, over looking
the wide sweep of the Thames. Hence the name, Less Ness. On the
slopes behind the Abbey they had planted and coppiced a large
plantation of sweet chestnuts, cutting the trees down to the stump,
from which grew multiple trunks. Coppicing actually extends the life
of the tree.
As
I walked through this wood as a child, it looked very strange to me.
It was the only one I knew like it, the enormous lumpy bases of the
sweet chestnuts had the trunks of many smaller chestnut trees growing
out of them. The chestnuts we picked up in those woods in autumn were
as big as you could buy, and just as delicious.
Each
year, as soon as the daffodils started to come out, we would make a
trip to Less Ness Abbey, to enjoy this wonderful sight. I do not
think the monks themselves had planted the daffodils, but they spread
in gorgeous yellow floods right across the slopes of the little
valleys, throughout the woods, under the sweet chestnuts.
I
sometimes hold a little brown bulb in my hand, trying to imagine the
lovely yellow bloom that will come from it. It is difficult to
visualise. For this reason, daffodils never fail to remind me of
Easter Sunday and life from the grave. For me, they continue to lift
their golden trumpets and herald the Resurrection.
