Each year there's some singular event that announces Spring's here, this is the real thing, guys, no going back. It may be new-born lambs in the fields, might be song birds tuning up for the big courting session, might be fluffy yellow and grey catkins on the willows, might be nothing more than a sunny day. Or it might be the wild daffodils. Well today it was all of those, thrown together in one glorious mix. And it brought out my Daffodils recitation.
Spring does that.
It's nice to be reliable. Standing outside the big out of town DIY store I faced into the sun, closed my eyes, and let it pour into me. I was reminded of a business trip, must be fifteen years ago, when I'd just arrived in Montpelier, right down in the South of France. It was February, and I'd driven from Derbyshire down to Heathrow to catch the IBM executive jet. But when I stepped out on to the runway at the end of the journey the afternoon sun hit me so hard I stopped and did the eyes shut facing into the sun thing.