When daffodils begin to peer,
With heigh! the doxy, over the dale,
Why, then comes in the sweet o’ the year;
For the red blood reigns in the winter’s pale.
The white sheet bleaching on the hedge,
With heigh! the sweet birds, O, how they sing!
Doth set my pugging tooth on edge;
For a quart of ale is a dish for a king.
(Shakespeare: The Winter's Tale, 4.2.1-8)
Spring is finally with us. It is probably my favourite season of the year. A season full of hope and potential. At last the days are getting longer. When I wave the kids off to school it is no longer dark. Having hunkered down all winter in their small apartments, the first milder days of the year see the café terraces over flowing with Parisians, desperate for a vitamin D fix and some light hearted socialising. A break from the daily grind of waking in the dark, catching an overcrowded metro, work, overcrowded metro, dark, home.
I love the unfurling of the first fresh green leaves.
Spring lace.
The first flowers emerge from their buds.
The first petals fall.
