Ode to spring

It's the loveliest season of all, after the chilly winter and before summer's scorching heat. The Weekly welcomes spring with traditions old and new – all celebrating this time of hope and renewal.

- BRONWYN PHILLIPS

It was a nondescript hedge on a bleak, cold street, part of the dog's evening walk, lately trudged in a dark, unseasonably wet winter. A day later, however, something was different.

The sky was still light from the sun lingering on the horizon, and winter's cold fingers had softened their grip. From the hedge, the heady waft of jasmine announced a miraculous transformation – what had been drab green foliage was now draped in delicate white buds around which bees buzzed. Beside it, a protective magpie chaperoned its chick, and a collection of bare branches had blossomed into pink, tissue-paper-thin magnolia flowers. Spring had waved her magic wand, transforming the neighbourhood overnight into a world of sensory delight, lush and abundant.

For the ancient Romans, Flora was the goddess of spring and flowers. Before she danced across the earth, scattering seeds, it was colourless, drab and brown.

Her first flower, made from blood, was the hyacinthus (modern-day larkspur), and it was Flora the Romans thanked for the exquisite gift of honey. She was celebrated with a festival known as Floralia, an extravagant indulgence of merriment and lasciviousness, with games and theatricals - often performed by naked actresses - which descended into orgies.