There are weeks when the universe is determined to lead you somewhere. This was one of those weeks. On almost every day and in numerous ways I have been confronted by signposts. They’ve popped up everywhere, quite literally.

It started with a casual remark on the radio by someone about ‘significant signposts’ in their life.

Back in the dark ages of the 1970s (quite literally, if you remember power cuts and the three day week), teachers could happily run with a child’s natural curiosity and set open-ended projects as valid educational experiences. My passion of the moment was wild flowers and plants, whilst my desk neighbours were big into beef cattle and rugby. (It was rural Wales, after all). I spent every spare minute for six weeks roaming the lanes and fields, collecting flowers, pressing them, sketching and photographing them on my Kodak Instamatic camera.

As well as the obvious benefits of being able to do independent research on something I loved I remember those weeks in Spring as being a golden time. Was it a case of looking back through rose-tinted spectacles or was something bigger at work there? I’m still a researcher and so I did what comes naturally and found out. It turns out I’m onto something.

Standing in silence with a few others this morning in an ancient churchyard, surrounded by birdsong, primroses and daffodils as the sun rose and the flames flickered in a nearby firepit put me in a thin place. It is easy to imagine many generations doing the same on Easter Day at dawn. It was a moment of connection.

To the Celts ( of which I am one) thin places were those where the presence of a higher being/heaven/creative force is almost tangible. Places where you feel an energy or spirit greater than yourself. Something beyond words, where the ordinary and the extraordinary intermingle. A place where the boundary between the physical world and a mystical or spiritual one is believed to be exceptionally thin, thus facilitating a moment of connection between the two. In thin places you may find your imagination ignited by thoughts of what has been before you.

March in the garden is truly transformational. By the end of the month the snowdrops are over, and the tulips have been joined by anemones and flowering shrubs. Larkspur and peonies are poking through and the roses are growing apace. Burgeoning is a good description. It changes daily but the one constant through the whole of March are the daffodils.

If ever there was a perfect flower for a Welsh woman’s cutting patch, the daffodil is it.

The Spring Equinox – day and night, light and dark in equilibrium – brings first a calmness and then a burst of energy. There’s a time for everything. Why fight it? Resolutions and good intentions to start projects are doomed to failure in the dead of winter when, surely, we are meant to hunker down inside, reflect and go slow? If you want to start a project, a good habit or make a change, now is the right time. You won’t want to fight it. Just go with the flow, the surge of energy and you’ll be pulled along.

So here are six simple ways to celebrate the season and establish good habits – one for every day of the week and a day off to just ‘be’.