April
By April, the days are stretching, yes, but there’s enough night left to see the sky settle into its spring pattern. Sit with me as the last of the daylight slips away — this is when the heavens begin their quiet rearranging.
High in the south, Virgo takes centre stage, wide and calm, her shape steady in the clear air. She’s one of the great constellations of this season, and April is when she really comes into her own. Close by rises Bootes, lifting his tall form as the dusk deepens. Together they shape the heart of the spring sky — open, uncluttered, and quietly assured.
To the west, Leo is still standing strong, though not for much longer. I’ve watched him command the night since winter loosened its hold, but April is when he begins to tilt toward the horizon. He’s still impressive, still confident — just beginning to hand things over to the constellations of the warmer months.
Across the sky, low and long, winds Hydra, the great serpent, easing its way through the dark with slow, deliberate grace. Above it rests Cancer, modest and tucked between larger shapes, still part of the spring arrangement.
Look north and you’ll find Perseus, lingering from the winter season but edging gradually toward his retreat. He won’t stay high for much longer, but for now he still keeps watch. Threading between every corner of the sky coils Draco, the dragon — ever-present, never hurried, winding through the northern darkness as he always does.
This is April’s sky — steady, shifting, and readying itself for lighter nights ahead. Sit with me a moment longer. It’s a gentle kind of change, and worth watching.
Sounds and Smells
The air is sharp and sweet, washed clean by spring rain. You can smell new grass pushing through, the earth alive again, and the faint perfume of violets tucked under the hedge. Woodsmoke fades to memory now, replaced by blossom, soil, and the promise of warmer nights ahead.
The evening grows louder each day. Blackbirds and thrushes fill the dusk with their confident songs, and lambs call softly from the meadow as the light fades. The air hums with insects — small, clumsy flyers that mark the start of the night’s work. Bats take to the sky again, dipping and turning through the open air, chasing midges along invisible paths.
Badgers are busy too, clearing old bedding from their setts, snuffling for worms in the damp ground. Hedgehogs have shaken off their winter sleep and move through the verges, searching out beetles and slugs. Even the moths are waking — the first Brimstone Moths flickering pale yellow in torchlight, their quiet flights tracing the boundary between spring evening and full night.
Later, when the birds fall silent, the Tawny Owls reclaim the darkness, their calls echoing through the trees. The countryside settles, but it doesn’t sleep — it changes shift. April is a month of motion, of lives returning to the dark and finding their rhythm again. The nights hum softly with renewal, every sound and scent reminding me that the year is truly awake.