Atrocious weather today, more howling gales that blew wheelie bins down the (thankfully empty) street, clouds scudding like galleons across the sky, turning the day alternately dark then blinding. The lovely thing, in my view, about the wind and rain is that when it clears, it leaves the river and the hills pristine and with pin-sharp clarity.
In defiance of the wild weather, my Vinca Periwinkle has its first flower open. It's a symbol, for me, of Spring with a capital "S". Not a precariously premature venturing into the season, but a confidently placed marker that dares anything to disagree with its right to be there, then.
The green basil seeds I sowed a few days ago are poking up, and the broccoli seedlings I transplanted into bigger pots are growing ever more sturdy. I think I'll have to buy more of those miniature pots (they're about an inch and a half across) to put the leeks into: they're more ready to move in than the broccoli is to move out.
Eggs today: 2. Definitely a Grizel offering, and one which is pale enough to be a Murdina one, but I'd be surprised since she laid yesterday. No matter.
Today I felt a lot more energised in the morning and of course, did too much so that by mid afternoon I had to go for a nap. And, for the first time since I came down with Swine Flu in early January, I felt bored. Just mildly, and not for long, but having spent weeks in a permanent ennui, it is hopeful and like a tiny pinprick of light at the end of the tunnel.
Signs of new life and hope indeed: it must be Spring.
"Sometimes the tiniest flowers smell the sweetest" (Emilie Barnes)
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