Something ‘s Coming. Something Fab. Spring? Not Sure. Watch This Space.

I don’t know what it is but I feel postitive and excited today. As if the wind has changed and something good is in the air. Perhaps it’s the sunshine (more than one hour a day, hooray) the lovely and chilled weekend I just had or the green and colours starting to spread already, like the early blooking crocuses on our local green, but it feels like there is some good change to come.

Spring is, of course, not far away. Not that i’ll be casting any kind of clout for many a month but I have already been ou tinto the garden to see what needs attanding to (everything – that was easy) and to satart to make plans. There’s something so insistent about Spring. You know it will turn up whatever hapens  even if it keeps you waiting for a bit, like buses and abesent minded boyfriends.

However, this feels different this year. Can’t tell you why. Perhaps there are other changes afoot. I do know that Dick mentioned the coming of Spring last vweek and,like the Groundhohg, if Dick starts wrinkling his nose you can be sure he’s seen some sign. catch up on his blog here and pick up a great bargain mower for the new season.

I feel a simdgin more lively today, a degree more light-hearted and a little more like getting out and about and socialising. This has to be partly to do with the forthcoming seasonal shift. All that “Hey-Nonny-Nonnyness” that creeps into your bones as Christmas and the New Year fade into obscurity.

In the meantime, here are the thoughts of Mr John Keats on the seasonal – and occasionally a bit frisky – changes that come over us every year, the seasons of man. I do like a bit of Keats. Comparing us to the seasons seems so right…

Four Seasons fill the measure of the year;
There are four seasons in the mind of man:
He has his lusty Spring, when fancy clear
Takes in all beauty with an easy span:
He has his Summer, when luxuriously
Spring’s honied cud of youthful thought he loves
To ruminate, and by such dreaming high
Is nearest unto heaven: quiet coves
His soul has in its Autumn, when his wings
He furleth close; contented so to look
On mists in idleness, to let fair things
Pass by unheeded as a threshold brook.
He has his Winter too of pale misfeature,
Or else he would forego his mortal nature.

I feel like an early blossoming right now, to be honets, but I  shall wait a little while. As you can see, thoughts of Spring always make me think about poets and I can imagine myeself all bonnetted and booted, reading Wordsworth in a sunny meadow. Chance would be a fine thing. I shall make do with a comfy armchair for now, but I hope that has got you in the mood for looking forward to the coming growing seasons.  Get out in your garden, plan your beds, tidy up, imagine what it will look like when it is all done. I know this is not like me, I know it seems a little ‘gushy’ and way too studious but I really think it’s time… like I said, I feel change coming. Watch this space! See ya.   Holly!

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