Spring tiptoes into our muddy valley, her soft breath rousing wild plum tree to stretch her winter-cramped limbs and open her blossomy eyes.
A bumper mud crop means I walk carefully everywhere, to avoid a fall.
The trees are still leafless, and winter’s jewels still glow in the most unexpected places, like the bird bath’s crimson algae world, complete with ghostly maple leaf ship tacking across a watery sky.
Spring has sprung, and the amble down the hill to summer is just ahead.