THERE is a certain time of year that always stirs something deep within me, a gentle reminder of childhood, community, and the quiet resilience of West Belfast. As the days lengthen and the light softens, my mind returns to Gibson Street and to my Granny McCusker’s front and back windowsills, alive with indoor plants and carefully tended flowerpots. They were not just decorations. They were nature’s way of whispering that spring was on its way.
Like many homes across the lower Falls and surrounding district, her windows were small stages of colour and life. Geraniums leaned eagerly towards the sun, spider plants spilled over their pots and cuttings were nurtured in old jars, waiting patiently for roots to take hold. Neighbours shared slips of plants over back walls, passing on more than greenery. They passed on care, pride, and a sense of belonging. In streets where space was limited and times were often hard, those windowsills became symbols of hope and quiet determination.
Flowerpots adorned the houses with the colours of a million rainbows, lifting the stone and brick with splashes of red, yellow, purple, and white. Even on the dampest Belfast mornings, there was warmth in those colours. They brightened the walk to school, the trip to the shops, or a neighbourly chat at the corner. You did not need a garden to feel close to nature. Nature came to you, right there on the sill, reminding everyone that life keeps finding a way to grow.
This season also draws people back outdoors. Parks, fields and pathways begin to offer their own floral welcome. The first brave daffodils push through the soil, crocuses open like small cups of light, and trees hint at green before fully waking from winter. In places like the Falls Park, or along familiar walking routes, you can feel the community stretching its legs again, shaking off the cold months and greeting one another with lighter steps and brighter spirits.
There is definitely magic in the air, but perhaps even more so in the eye that fills the heart with renewal. It is not only about flowers or sunshine. It is about memory, connection, and the comfort of recognising the same seasonal rhythms year after year.
For many of us in West Belfast, these small signs of spring link us back to parents, grandparents, and neighbours who shaped our sense of home and community.
In remembering those windowsills on Gibson Street, I am reminded of the power of simple things. A plant nurtured with care. A splash of colour in a quiet street. A shared smile between neighbours. These moments carry meaning far beyond their size. They tell a story of resilience, warmth and continuity, a story that still lives in our streets, our parks, and in the hearts of the people who call this community home.
