Three days ago in Oxford it was still very cold – and then suddenly, rudely elbowing spring aside, summer muscled its way onstage with a great shout, bringing days of mid-twenties weather. It was, as you can imagine, a little disorienting.

But what a relief – I’d started to despair of ever being warm again. And I’d almost forgotten what an astonishing city Oxford can be in the warmer seasons.

Sometimes waiting is good for you. The sudden change on Wednesday made me feel like I’d fallen into a parallel Oxford. I felt my shoulders drop, and realised I’d been hunched against the cold, protecting myself, since October. Everything feels different now. My senses are heightened; on my bicycle ride to work every morning I can smell trees and bushes in flower, hear the birds shouting over each other on rooftops and in trees, see a riot of colours in sky and field, and exult in the hordes of waterfowl having a terrific time in the rivers around the University Parks.

This kind of change makes me want to be outside for extended periods, which is unlike me. I think my relationship with God has changed a little, too. It feels more optimistic, more generous. This is partly the relief of spring, yes – but most of all, the remembrance of things past. It’s the fulfilment of a promise that I’d forgotten about until I smelled the sweetness in the air and remembered that the earth performs this dance year after year, even if it’s delayed a little bit sometimes. We can stop holding ourselves so stiffly and relax into the warmth of a creation in which life is renewed again and again, a beautiful, messy, fragrant metaphor for God’s promise of eternal life, a perfect illustration in the smallest flower of the wonder of evolution and the gorgeous, poignant fleetingness of it all. After all, the blossoms on our almond tree outside St Mary’s are gone already, bowing out gracefully so the magnolia can have its moment.

I was challenged recently to spend time outside as a conscious spiritual practice, even to consider organising a service or two out of doors. God is waiting to meet us in his own creation, after all, not just in church. And for someone like me who hesitates to go outside much, it’s a good challenge. There might be something like this in the works over the summer term: a service or two held in the great cathedral of the outdoors. Be sure to follow us on Twitter to find out more; announcements will be made there closer to the time.