By Tim Porteus

SPRING has sprung and normally I would be spending most of my free time exploring East Lothian for story ideas or walking in the woods, or combing the coast and finding “secret magical places” with my family.

I’ve always loved spring. The burst of life and colour with the long (and sometimes warm) evenings resurrects my mood, enlivens my nature-loving soul. It makes our days feel longer while also giving us the extra energy to enjoy them.

How can we not be uplifted by the sight of a tree in full blossom bathed in sparkling sunshine, or a carpet of wild flowers; especially after months of winter when the land sleeps, and the sun seems to have forgotten us?

But these are not normal times of course and the ability to roam in nature and soak in its wonder has been temporarily restricted. In fact for many of us our normal life routine has been totally suspended.

While we are in lockdown, nature is enjoying the opposite; it’s flourishing with new life and beauty. And while it’s frustrating that we cannot venture out in ways we might be used to, I have been able to listen more closely to the stories that nature is telling on my doorstep.

Over the last few years I have deliberately ‘re-wilded’ my small garden which I am so lucky to have. By that I mean I have allowed nature to do its thing, and nature has accepted the invitation. Elder, rowan, silver birch and cherry trees now enclose my wee patch of the world. Wild flowers such as dandelion and forget-me-nots have sprung up and last year I had foxglove, so I’m waiting to see what this summer will bring.

A strange effect of all this has been the enlarging of my garden. Not literally, but in the power of its presence. I’ve noticed how a space full of nature feels bigger than one that’s bare, ‘neat’ and manicured.

I like to call it the forest horizon effect. Compare standing in the middle of a wide open treeless park with standing in the middle of a wood surrounded by trees and humming life. The area of the wood may be much smaller than the park, but its impact on our senses is much greater. We are embraced by nature, not just physically but also, if we feel the connection, emotionally and spiritually. The space actually feels larger than it is because there is more in it.

I am missing this embrace so much right now because of the inability to visit my favourite woods. But the lockdown has compelled me to spend more time in the natural world on my back doorstep.

And within the embrace of my garden’s re-wilded forest horizon, although only a space of around 15 metres by 12, I have discovered the truth contained in the wonderful book by Scott Sampson How to Raise a Wild Child.

In his book, Scott states: “When I began on this book, I had a certain sense of self-satisfaction, convinced that a lifetime of outdoor play, hiking and camping… had forged within me a deep bond with nature… Instead, I found that, like most of us, I was oblivious to most of the natural goings-on around me.”

He explains how he then spent time with his daughter absorbing the sounds and sights of nature on his doorstep, which fostered their ‘internal wildness’ more than any trip to a remote wilderness. They listened to birdsong and sat quietly as small creatures played out their life’s dramas under the shadow of their house. “Wildness just outside the front door,” Scott writes, “was helping us deepen our bond with nature. Such interactions, I have come to realise, are essential to nature connection.”

Reading this has given new meaning to the confinement imposed by the lockdown. Never before have I had such time to simply sit and absorb the tiny goings on in the garden, embraced by my own mini forest horizon.

A garden is a privilege, of course, and I understand many don’t have one. But wildness can also be found on our walk to the shops, on verges and public green spaces, with trees, bushes and wild flowers that grow in our urban spaces. The trick is to pause and absorb the wonder of it, listen and look for the wee miracles that we usually don’t notice and walk by. It’s easier now, even on a normally busy street, with so much reduced traffic noise and absence of bustle.

On my exercise walk yesterday I did just this and was overwhelmed by the beauty of renewed life. It occurred to me that this precious one-walk-a-day has intensified the connection it gives me to local nature.

And never have I enjoyed the privilege of having a re-wilded garden so much. On Easter Monday I sat in it with my five-year-old son. His attention span can be short but I explained what we were doing and he stayed with me for 30 minutes. The first thing I noticed was the absence of normal background noise, which heightened the volume of nature’s spring melody.

Our garden attracts many birds which sit on the branches and sing their hearts out. I know they don’t sing for us, but my young son thought they were doing just that. In just 30 minutes we heard or saw coal tits, wrens, wood pigeons, willow warblers, magpies and a robin. I’d never have previously known what some of these birds were, but now we are in a mindset to get to know who is inhabiting our ‘doorstep wildness’.

We also watched a peacock butterfly explore our garden as it fluttered and paused in equal measure. The sound of bumblebees arrived and we saw them hover over the dandelions. Then a small honey bee made an entrance, likewise visiting the dandelions. As we sat quietly, the sound of honking above us raised our heads and we saw two V formations of geese heading north.

When my boy got restless, I suggested we crawl like explorers in the grass to see what we could find. We spotted an incredible sight: young garden spiders emerging from their egg sack which was half hidden under a curve in a plant pot. My son’s fascination at this was matched by my own! It was early for this to happen, and we found many other egg sacks elsewhere still unhatched.

Within these 30 minutes there was so much life and wonder; so many stories to discover. Where did the small birds come from, where were the geese going, why do bees suddenly appear and what did they do during the winter? Why are dandelions so popular with the bees, what is so special about them? Why do the birds sing differently, are they speaking to each other; if so, what are they saying?

How did the peacock butterfly get its name and where did it hibernate, was it in our garden shed? What was it looking for? Were the hatching spiders emerging early because their mother deliberately chose a warm corner in the garden to lay her eggs? Why do some spiders live in the garden, while others like hiding under your bed? Do you know how to spot the difference, and do they spin their webs differently?

These were just some of the stories my son and I wondered about after our 30 minutes together in our garden wilderness. But such drama happens all around us. Little patches of mini wilderness are everywhere, if we hone our senses to notice and appreciate them.

I realise now the lockdown, although stressful, has created the conditions for the discovery of so many new things, with so many new nature stories to learn; tales of survival and adventure, of life’s drama happening on our doorstep and in our street.

And the biggest story of all is that everything around us is ultimately related. We are part of nature’s story because we are part of nature. We share a common ancestor with every creature and plant; yes, even with the trees.

So while I, like us all, yearn for the end of the lockdown for many reasons, I am also going to try to make the best of it by being more aware of nature’s wonders that are literally outside my window, while I stay at home to help keep others safe.