…. is springing.
It’s still cold – some parts of Scotland are being snowed upon right now – but here beside Loch Lomond the sun is shining with a definite promise of warmth. The earth smells, for want of a better word, earthy. And the birds sound different.
Once you tune in to them, the change in birdsong is really noticeable. In the winter they sound muted, subdued, concentrating only on staying alive. But now, when I wake in the morning, I hear optimism and joy flooding through the open window.
The sap’s rising.
In me too, it seems. I also feel as though I just bunker down in the winter, doing the bare minimum to get through the long dark weeks. I can totally understand why some animals hibernate, and for me it takes the form of huddling in front of a bright fire, and not setting foot across the threshold unless absolutely necessary.
But things have changed. This infant spring has rekindled my enthusiasm for, well, everything. I’m ferreting around in half written poetry and abandoned novels, dusting things off, seeing what can be salvaged, being inspired anew.
Outside, too, I’m seeing things which need done in the garden before the growth starts in anger. The big skies are luring me away, and the distant hills are making my hiking feet itch…
It’s time to get the van serviced in readiness for some mini adventures. And who knows – I might even do some spring cleaning!