Welcome to my home, pull up a chair and ease your shoes off. It’s ok if they’re sweaty, slightly stale or even smelly, the window’s open and, if you look quietly, there is a bird out on the patio pecking at a stick. Maybe he thinks it’s a worm. Perhaps it’s a she, and preparing a nest for her offspring. Occasionally they nest under the eaves, but I have not yet been fortunate enough to see the hatchlings.
Early Spring is one of my favourite times. The cautious peeking of new leaves, the first blackbird to sing in the large tree outside, the first truly warm sunny day after a long season of grey. Last week someone mowed their lawn and the scent of freshly cut grass blew through the house. Of course, living in a farming area means less savoury smells abound too, but these fade into the background as the glory of irisies, snowdrops and primroses tantalize my other senses.
Spring is the promise that life isn’t over.
Spring is the promise of new beginnings.
Spring is the promise of warmth.
Spring is the promise that no matter what winter harboured, there is hope.
What are your hopes, this Spring?
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