Spring has sprung.
Daffodils along all the roadsides. And leaf buds, light green and maroon and glossy. And birds. Bursting into random staccato song all through the night and then exploding into symphony around dawn. Jewel colours strewn all over the grass - blue, yellow, pink, emerald. And sunlight roaring through the trees, furiously waking up the sleeping earth.
There seems to be no excuse anymore to not just throw away my winter coat. Though doing so now would mean I enjoy the sunshine from behind bleary eyes and a hankerchief, battling a cold. Not nice.
The house needs a bit of spring cleaning. So tomorrow we take advantage of the fact that it'll be drizzling, and go to skip with everything that needs to be chucked. Such a civilised system, the skip. Everything that can be recycled, is (and if I'm wrong on that, please don't tell me!!) So much nicer than throwing unwanted furniture into a garbage tip on the street - like one would, I suppose, back home.
All in all, this is get out and walk around all day weather.
And this morning, the Man and I did just that.
*happy sigh. Thank you, Lord, for the end of that ghastly winter.
Showing posts with label Spring. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Spring. Show all posts
Sunday, 22 March 2009
Monday, 31 March 2008
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!
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!
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