There are several things that mark the passing of time between winter and spring, and one of the obvious signs are our wild flowers. You see the primroses (though visible here and there since Christmas) opening a feast of flowers by the end of February, and on the first warm days, butterflies that have overwintered, like the brimstone (melyn y rhafnwydd) or the small tortoiseshell (trilliw bach), will enjoy the nectar. Spring bulbs have added the bright colours to our gardens that we have been longing for, and daffodils make our hearts beat with patriotic pride through the early months of the year. Perhaps your spring doesn’t start until you see bluebells colouring fields and woods all blue. Or when you notice the hedges running as white ribbons across our hills – when blackthorn and hawthorn blossom has thrown a white dress over them.
One spring flower that makes me sigh with relief is the lesser celandine (llygad Ebrill). After grey and sunless months, these flowers appear under trees and at waysides, their little starry yellow petals greeting us like the sun itself. Belonging to the same family as the buttercups, the lesser celandine has small dark green, heart-shaped leaves with lighter markings. Taking advantage of the sunlight before the trees open their leaves, they can cover a damp woodland floor completely in a yellow-green blanket.
At night and on gloomy days, the flowers close, and when their time is up, their happy yellow starts to fade. But on a sunny day, they turn towards the sun like a parabolic mirror, collecting the warmth of its rays into their middle. The little knots that grow on their roots have been used to treat piles, and the high content of vitamin C in the young leaves are said to be good for scurvy.
You may notice that the names of several other wild flowers begin with ‘llygad’: llygad doli (doll’s eye=speedwell), llygad y dydd (day eye=daisy), llygad llo mawr (big calf’s eye=oxeye daisy). Is this the way we people draw the world of plants closer to our hearts, by giving them a familiar character?
If you like flowers, the book Blodau Gwyllt is worth a look. You can also visit Llên Natur which gives you the names of species in Cymraeg and English. The Plantnet app is available in Cymraeg and will help you identify plants with your mobile phone when you’re out and about – and you can even contribute Welsh names to their database if you know your plants! The Heritage Lottery-funded Gwreiddiau Gwyllt project is collating Welsh language nature resources, and there will be a resource bank available to the public in one place at the end of the project.
Terms
briallu – primrose
melyn y rhafnwydd – brimstone butterfly
trilliw bach (small three-colour) – small tortoiseshell
cennin Pedr (Peter’s leek) – daffodil
clychau’r gog (cuckoo bells) – bluebells
draenen wen – hawthorn
draenen ddu – blackthorn
llygad doli (doll’s eye) – speedwell
llygad y dydd (day eye) – daisy
llygad llo mawr (big calf’s eye) – oxeye daisy
Llygaid Ebrill
Pryd cychwynna’r gwanwyn i chi? Gyda’r eirlys yn y plwy?
Neu yw’r cynffon wŷn yn datgan bod y golau’n para’n hwy?
Ceirios gwyllt yn gwisgo’n bêr yn eu ffrog priodas lân,
neu ella bod chi newydd sylwi: mwy o adar bach ar gân?
Hwyrach, coed llawn blodau gwynt yw’r hyn sy’n gwneud chi’n llawen,
Neu ddiwedd mis y clychau’r gog ar ddyddiau cyntaf cynnes iawn.
Mae sawl cam ar ffordd i’r gwanwyn, a sawl blodyn ar y daith.
Un o’ rhai sy’n codi gwên yw llygaid Ebrill coetir llaith.
Braidd yn fuan, meddwch chi, llygaid Ebrill ym mis Chwefror,
A briallu bach yn ‘rardd cyn i flwyddyn newydd agor…
Beth yw’r newid, beth yw’r trywydd diarth drwy’r tymhorau, dywed?
Gaeaf mwyn a gwanwyn cynnar, newid patrwm gwres a glaw,
ydi’r cyfan yn arwyddo newid yn yr hinsawdd ddaw?
Ond och, mae’n braf i weld y gwanwyn, i’w synhwyro, ac i’w glywed.