My small miniature daffodils are in full bloom now and just looking at them makes me happy. Their taller cousins are just starting to bloom The palest and least dramatic ones seem to bloom first, followed by daffodils with stronger colours and frillier shapes.
A tiny scilla plant lives quietly under the gravel of my side path and blooms cheerfully every spring. Its tiny blue flowers brighten a spot where no flowers ought to bloom. It is precious to me for that reason.
The grass is thickening up nicely and will soon be ready for its first cut of the season. Along the steep bank above the house ragamuffin dandelions are starting to flower. They remind me of the poor children of Charles Dickens’ Victorian England – overlooked, undervalued and disregarded – but irrepressible.
Just once so far I have been awakened by the song of a robin. “Here I am, a fine fellow! Strong, handsome, hard-working. I will build a fine nest for you! I will hunt for food for our babies! Lady robins, check me out! See how early I am awake! You won’t find a finer robin husband anywhere! Look at me!
I haven’t heard him since, so perhaps his song was successful.