From The House of Edward

A Warm Day

It was a gift unexpected, but a gift to be sure. It arrived on our doorstep unwrapped but so welcome that, to our eyes, it appeared swathed in a gossamer silk, festooned with a garland of pearl. After the four coldest days of the winter, a tiny, sweet gift of Spring. Adorned with a cloudless azure sky , it was warm and still - a hint, a mere glimmer, of May. No matter our plans for the day, it was a gift we could not wait to open, for who knew when it would come again? We threw down the usual and made for the trees, where we spent the afternoon roaming though forests and meadows still deep in their winter sleep, still robed in cloaks of muted grey, for they were wise enough to know this gift was only meant for one day. The winter air which had only yesterday slapped our cheeks with icy fingers, now floated placidly round us as we walked, too tame to trouble even the tiniest leaf left on the tiniest tree. There were no flowers, no green, no fragrance of Spring, and the light that sliced through the bare oaks all around us still bore the sharp slant of a February sun. No matter. For just when we had begun to think that Mother Nature had abandoned colour and warmth for good, she bestowed a gift of a few warm winter hours to let us know that, no, she has not forgotten Spring. Her gift was but a sweet reminder that no matter how frozen the world around us might appear, warm days will soon arrive. So, we ran and we ran, and Edward was difficult to hold back as he tugged at his lead in excitement and pulled me along through the fair afternoon.
It was a delightful gift, and how happy were we to open it.

I wonder if the sap is stirring yet,
If wintry birds are dreaming of a mate,
If frozen snowdrops feel as yet the sun
And crocus fires are kindling one by one:
Sing robin, sing:
I still am sore in doubt concerning Spring.

Christina Rossetti