Notes for the Month: March - Awakening

Spring returns every year. And yet, it never arrives the same way. Not because nature changes its course, but because we do. The light stretches a little further into the day, the air softens, and something inside us begins to recalibrate. What once felt like anticipation may now feel like hesitation. What once felt urgent may now feel unnecessary. The season remains cyclical. We do not.

For centuries, spring has marked the passage from dormancy to vitality. It is often described as renewal, but renewal is not spectacle. It is preparation. The soil does not bloom on command. It warms quietly. Seeds do not respond to pressure. They respond to readiness. Nothing in nature leaps forward without first softening.

Perhaps awakening is less about becoming new, and more about becoming attuned.

In Anatolia, spring has long been more than a seasonal shift. It has been communal. Hıdırellez fires lit the night with shared hope. Wishes were tied to rose branches, entrusted to wind and time. Fields were blessed. Tables were extended. Renewal was not experienced alone; it was ritualised together. Spring was understood as continuity — a reminder that life moves in cycles, and that growth is sustained by memory.

Across cultures, this transition from winter to vitality has carried similar meaning. It signals not only change, but resilience. The end of dormancy. The return of colour. The quiet assurance that what seemed still was only resting.

Artists have long tried to hold this fleeting season in place. William Shakespeare reflected on its fragile beauty in Sonnet 18, questioning what endures beyond time. Claude Monet translated shifting light into atmosphere, capturing the delicacy of spring landscapes before they disappeared. Antonio Vivaldi composed its vibrancy in The Four Seasons, turning movement into sound. Spring passes quickly. Art allows it to linger.

IF YOUR SPRING FEELS UNTAMED

Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë

Though new adaptations bring it back into conversation, the original remains unmatched in its rawness. Its windswept landscapes and emotional turbulence remind us that spring is not only softness. Renewal can also carry intensity. Restlessness. Untamed feeling. Nature and emotion move with equal force.

IF YOU'RE DRAWN TO QUITE AWAKENINGS

Portrait de la jeune fille en feu by Céline Sciamma

Not because it is new, but because some seasons ask for certain stories again. We were drawn to its quiet intensity, to the way light becomes language, to the stillness between glances. Most of all, to its portrayal of feminine inner awakening; subtle, contained, yet transformative. A reminder that not all beginnings are visible. Some unfold internally before they ever take form.

IF YOUR SPRING FEELS LUMINOUS AND ALIVE

The Four Seasons — Spring by Antonio Vivaldi

Some seasons don’t arrive quietly. They enter with movement.With brightness.With a pulse that feels almost electric. Vivaldi’s Spring doesn’t whisper renewal; it celebrates it.Birdsong in strings.Light in motion.A sense that something long asleep has begun to stir. If this season feels vivid to you; if your energy is returning in waves rather than in silence; this might be the soundtrack. Not all awakenings are gentle. Some bloom in sound.

Listen here.

Spring, then, is not simply about blooming. It is about alignment. It asks us to notice where we are in our own cycle. Preparing? Resting? Beginning again? It invites us to move with rhythm rather than urgency, to root before rising, to listen before expanding.

There is no demand in this season. Only invitation.

And perhaps that is why it continues to return — not to rush us forward, but to remind us that growth, when grounded, does not need to be loud.

Happy spring month — in its blooming, awakening forms.

With care,

The Prickly Pears Sisters 🌿

---

For this month, we’re holding a quiet intention close:

To move in rhythm rather than urgency.To prepare gently before we expand.To root ourselves deeply before we rise. To trust that what is unfolding does not need to be rushed.