Suddenly, the village has turned yellow, and it is lifting people’s spirits.
So far, I’ve noticed nine shades of yellow, as I take up my new role as part-time door opener at the church.
Funny how life works out isn’t it? At one point you’re writing for national newspapers, then you’re project managing a garden at the RHS Chelsea Flower Show, and then you’re opening the door at church.
My new role might not be as prestigious as some of my previous ones, but it does afford the possibility of watching spring unfurl.
It’s barely a five-minute walk to the church, and yet on the way I’ve spotted banks of primroses and celandines and at least four types of daffodils.
Heading away from the church, I come to the sheep farm, at whose gate is a magnificent weeping willow tree. It, and its peers around the village, are also turning an arresting shade of yellow, as the branches turn a yellowy-green, and the leaf buds emerge.
This is happening very quickly, due to the appearance of a long-forgotten yellow object in the sky. Everything, including the willow, is growing fast in the warmth of the sun.
The village’s trees are also festooned with mistletoe, which over the winter has been absolutely gorgeous. It’s fading now and turning its own late-season shade of yellow. So, the yellows are both greetings of farewell and hello.
The door-opening role is only two days a week, which allows me to carry on with the day job of freelance communications specialist. But it also gets me up and away from my desk. Sitting for long hours staring at your screen is apparently so bad for you, that in some circles, it’s perceived as the new smoking.
And it reminds me never to under-estimate the value of an open church. Whatever we do or don’t believe, sometimes we need a place of quiet and sanctuary, where we can just sit and be quiet when the pressures of life grow too much. An open church can be just that.
If you’re grieving, sad or distressed, an open church affords a place to step aside and reflect.
Historically, churches were places of physical refuge from those fleeing violence, and they still do offer that sanctuary. But perhaps, when things are a bit overwhelming, today they offer a place to get away from the doomscrolling.
I remember, early on in my career, having a boss who was a bully, and known for it across the organisation. Working for them taught me a lot about how not to be a boss. In my lunchtimes, occasionally I’d need to get away from the toxic atmosphere, and I found the local church, which was open. I’d just sit there until I felt less shattered and then would return to my desk for more of the same.
So far, I haven’t encountered anyone seeking sanctuary from a bully during my door duties, but you never know, they might have been in earlier. I hope they liked all the yellows on the way.