Spring from my window:
A cat whirls and somersaults on the neighbour's lawn. Chasing, variously: it's own tail, a passing bug, a bee, a fearsome imaginary foe (but let's not be too quick to dismiss the fact that cats can see other worlds entirely. Oh yes, they can).
Sunshine streams onto the red brick of the houses on this street.
Tiny bugs flying through the vibrating quiet, wings alight.
The tree in the neighbours garden (always so immaculate, their garden, their kitchen, their cat!) is sprouting tiny forests of peridot along each branch. This is my favourite green: that of young leaves lit with the sun.
Someones pink plastic ball floated into the garden and is apparently here to stay. It is sitting in my weed patch (I like my weed patch, bugger off, it is far more interesting to me than a flowerbed) glowing pinkly. Most surreal. I have decided not to touch it for now, and when the weather really does turn, I will kick it all the way to the park.
And this, perhaps, the best sign of them all -
I woke at 7 this morning, and threw off the quilts. Too hot! And then, having suitably adjusted the temperature, I lay down again in a patch of morning sun shining through the open window and was cooed to sleep by dovesong.
There's more signs to come! Can'twait, can'twait, can'twait!