Sizdah Bedar 2025: a day in the woods

April is unpredictable

April, one day, it’s crisp and tentative, teasing us with longer daylight and warmth; the next, it’s unpredictable, splashing rain across your windscreen while the sun peeks from behind clouds. It brings the promise of renewal, a kind of impatient optimism, and at least for those of us in the North East of England – moments when the first green shoots of spring look defiant against the last of winter’s grey.

This year, we celebrated Sizdah Bedar by heading to Plessey Woods, Northumberland, with its sun-dappled paths and gentle streams. Walking there, I remembered lockdown days when the trails were eerily quiet, punctuated only by deer peering from the undergrowth. Today, the woods were alive with children’s laughter, the low hum of conversation, and that soft April light that makes everything glimmer.

A simple picnic

Our Sizdah Bedar picnic was simple but comforting: Persian kotlet and warm flatbreads, tea steaming in thermoses, and endless chatter between friends. Cyrus and his little friends splashed in the stream, shrieking with delight, while some children from another group, unaware of the sabzeh tradition, tried to pluck our green shoots from the water. We guided them back gently, reminding them this is about letting go, not collecting souvenirs.

Letting the Sabzeh float

And then came the ritual that gives Sizdah Bedar its magic: letting the sabzeh float downstream. The tiny green shoots twirled and bobbed, catching the weak but persistent April sun. Watching them drift, I thought about what April brings: new beginnings and unpredictable weather. There is definitely something about letting go of worry, of small failures, of the parts of yourself you’ve been holding on to too tightly while the world flows past.

Walking through the woods

As we wandered back through the trails later in the afternoon, I noticed the subtle gifts of April all around: the soft green of emerging leaves, the tiny bursts of blossom daring to appear before the month has fully warmed, and the sunlight that slips through clouds in shy, golden beams. Walking here in April life is always moving, and always surprising, much like the children splodging in the stream, heedless of the cold and the practicalities of muddy trousers.

By the time we packed up, the sabzeh had floated away downstream. Sizdah Bedar is a chance to step outside, breathe, and just notice life: the sparkle of sunlight on water, or the thrill of a splash.