A pal asked me recently what colour comes to mind when I think of spring. At the time I answered, ‘new grass green’; I think I’d like to revise that now to yellow. No, not just yellow – bright, bursting, exuberant gorse yellow.

Always abundant, gorse, or whin, seems to have exploded this year and can be found almost everywhere I look. Great mounds of it grow on low knolls beneath the hills along the Mallaig road; it erupts from the verges and climbs every inch of steep stone on the run up to Inverness; it rolls in vast yellow seas in the moorland above Drum; festoons the canal paths and the low ridge below Banavie Quarry, and even at Caol swing park it shines from behind the trees, gilding the Blar.

The sun’s new heat releases sweet clouds of coconut-vanilla fragrance from the flowers, like you can breathe in warmth.  Petal overlaps petal upon petal upon petal, in a riot of softness that contrasts with the hard green spikes standing guard among them.

Those soft petals belie their hardiness. Gorse flowers from winter through into spring, and can be found coated with ice just as often as its yellow meets matching sunlight. The sharp stems seem more indicative of its tenacity. It loves our acidic heathland soils and can stand to be exposed to all that the Highland weather can throw at it.

Despite its year-round bright beauty, I don’t ever recall seeing it in people’s gardens. Reforesting Scotland’s Tree Planter’s Guide to the Galaxy does say that gorse is used as hedging in Scotland and as windbreaks for livestock. It’s no less unruly than the more popular rhododendron, spreading its seeds widely in the heat of summer, but it is infinitely more beneficial to wildlife and to us.

Instead of choking out existing flora and fauna as the rhoddies do, gorse’s stiff, dense stems create shelter for birds and can help to protect new tree growth from deer browsing. Though it doesn’t mind the poor soil, it is a nitrogen fixer and so improves soil fertility for other species to take root in the future. The flowers are an early source of nectar for bees and are also edible to humans (unlike the poisonous rhoddies), used as garnish for salads or steeped in tea or wine.

There’s certainly enough to go around. You’d need to be fairly hardy yourself to tackle gathering the flowers, protected as they are by that army of spikes. I stopped to gather just a few, for no other reason than to have the scent in my hand. I earned more than a few stabs for my scant efforts, so good luck to ye!