One Fine Day

There comes a day each year when you know that spring has taken centre stage. Even though  cold, dark and damp days may still turn up, and they inevitably do, there is a subtle shift in the air and you know winter is over. You slip out of the back door on some momentary errand, to empty the teapot or to pick some fresh rosemary and you get stopped in your tracks. Maybe it is something as obvious as the robin  vocally setting the boundaries of his territory that makes you pause, may be you want the warmth of the sun to linger on your face but it is in that moment your senses are alerted to other subtleties.

 

You realise that in the clouds of cherry blossom overhead, the winged section of nature's insect orchestra is thrumming industriously. In the next breath you are aware that the air is scented with flowers. For me this is a special seasonal marker  which I always note in my journal. I celebrate the occasion by bringing some of the blooms into the house. Sweet box and narcissus are  visually  delicate rather than spectactular  but just a small vase  provides enough fragrance to fill several rooms.

  Should the weather turn and keep me indoors, or the smell of the flowers in the garden be overwhelmed by the freshly turned earth in the field beyond, I will still be enveloped in the promise of spring.