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The Phoenix Rising"Please close the door. It conserves heat and keeps the organ in tune," requests the notice inside the church door. It's pleasantly warm inside, on this chilly April morning. But on the night of 16 September 1998, temperatures here exceeded 1,000C, when fire consumed the old organ, along with the floors, window, roof and 900 years of history, leaving a charred shell.Seven years of reconstruction and renewal followed, creating a light, airy interior: simple pale oak has replaced the darker, more intricate furnishings, and a new east window portrays an exotic floral paradise.A Paradise RestoredHelen Whittaker's Paradise window in St Brandon's church. Photograph: Phil GatesHelen Whittaker's vibrant stained glass Paradise window celebrates the quest of the Irish traveller St Brandon, better known as St Brendan, who spent a lifetime searching for an earthly Garden of Eden. Early-morning sunlight, streaming through the glass, casts rainbow shadows of subtropical flowers that he might have encountered: strelitzia, jacaranda, hibiscus and angel's trumpets. Below panes of red, orange, purple and blue, the artist has left clear glass panels, revealing the natural beauty of native trees in the churchyard beyond, itself a paradise for local wildlife.Wildlife SanctuaryFebruary's drifts of the snowdrops and winter aconites, around the grave of Jack Warner – a much-missed former colleague – gave way to daffodils in March. Today, bee-flies are darting between primrose flowers, in longer grass between mown paths. A buff-tailed queen bumblebee, searching for a nest site, explores a vole tunnel around an old tree stump. A seven-spot ladybird ambles across a lichen-encrusted table-tomb. The loudest sound comes from a song thrush. Otherwise, it is so quiet that I can hear the scratchy claws of a treecreeper climbing the bark of an ash tree.Pollen-producing cones on a St Brandon's churchyard yew. Photograph: Phil GatesThe Balance of LifeSympathetic churchyard management like this achieves a fine balance between respect for those whose life journeys ended here and the needs of nature, where another cycle of life is beginning.Pollen of RenewalOne of the ancient churchyard yews is covered in tiny male, pollen-producing cones. On the way out, I give its branch a gentle shake and, for a second or two, a ghostly cloud of yellow pollen is suspended in a shaft of sunlight, then dissolves like smoke in the air as it rises through the branches.

The arrival of drier March days brings with it the familiar hum of lawn mowers on urban housing estates, but for the author, it's a signal to search for the first signs of their beloved spring flower: the dandelion. Spotting one blooming in a crack beside a crumbling wall, the author can't help but feel a sense of joy and connection to this often-maligned weed. The dandelion's unique charm lies in its ability to thrive in unexpected places, much like the author, who identifies as a wheelchair user, feels a kinship with the flower's resilient nature. This connection is shared with toddlers who delight in carrying dandelions in their fists, and the author jokingly suggests that dandelions would make a perfect bridal bouquet. Dandelions are pure sunshine, offering an instant tonic for grey days or low moods. They provide a vital source of nutrition for pollinators when other pollen is scarce, acting as a bridge until other spring flowers bloom. The flowers, roots, and leaves are also a remarkably nutritious food source, boasting more vitamin A than spinach and more vitamin C than tomatoes. The dandelion's thick roots, rich in latex, are being explored as a sustainable and eco-friendly source of rubber for car and bicycle tires. Additionally, the flower's behavior serves as a rudimentary weather forecast, closing its petals tight when rain is approaching to protect its pollen. As the dandelion's flowering cycle comes to an end, it offers a final gift: turning into bright, white moons. Blowing on these seed heads not only helps spread the seeds but also feels like an appropriate thank you for all that the dandelion provides.