After a muddy start, with moody, grey skies in a Devon seaside resort for a weekend break, spring is here.
My neighbour’s just fired up the lawnmower. Spring is here.
There’s a jackdaw nesting in the ash tree on the other side of the wall. Ravens are croaking, cawing a love call. Spring is here.
In the gardens and in Lidls, there are daffodils a-plenty, polyanthus in yellow, red, cerise and bright pink. Very gaudy. But it’s okay. Spring is here.
My wallflowers are out and the hellebore looks a picture. A picture of spring. Spring is here.
I can’t believe it. Blue sky in Somerset. A vivid colour in stark contrast to a yellow wall. Spring is here. Horses are racing, although the going is heavy. Isn’t it always? Not when spring is here.
There are bees and even butterflies. A few gnats buzzing above a farm gate.
Open-topped sports cars, small children without coats (their teenage siblings and cousins discarded them long ago. That’s kids for you) and fresh badger’s droppings for the dog to roll in. Spring is here.
It’s definitely here.