Last Sunday was the first day of spring, and it was as if all of nature wanted us to know it.
The day dawned crisp and sunny, and by mid-afternoon the temperature had climbed to a summer-like 27ºC.
The weeds in the garden seemed to have put on extra growth, and I hauled almost a dozen wheelbarrow loads of them to the compost pile as I began preparing the garden for the upcoming planting season.
Daffodils, snowdrops, and bluebells nodded in the sunshine, carpeting the yard with colour.
Willows everywhere suddenly burst into leaf, the fresh green of their branches like a beacon.
Bees hummed in every flower, and midges danced in lekking storms that sounded like rain against the windows.
We spent the day outdoors, threw open the windows, and drank in the warmth, going inside only when hunger drove us in to dinner.
Even the sun seemed to linger, painting the evening with golden streaks of promise.