If this is spring, why am I so cold? The few Easter days were wet, windy and cold and all the expected sunshine was out for just a handful of minutes just to make us yearn for spring and warmth even more. I know that talking about the weather (especially the bad weather!) is not only a British habit, but I cannot remember to have dwelled so much on the weather forecast before moving to Britain. Anyway, to console myself (and you as well, I hope), I’d like to post a wonderful picture of my favourite flower, the mimosa (which is actually a shrub and its official name is ‘acacia dealbata’).
I’m also posting my favourite Spring poem, one of the first poems I learnt in the English language.
Lines Written in Early Spring, William Wordsworth
I heard a thousand blended notes,
While in a grove I sate reclined,
In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts
Bring sad thoughts to the mind.
To her fair works did Nature link
The human soul that through me ran;
And much it grieved my heart to think
What man has made of man.
Through primrose tufts, in that green bower,
The periwinkle trailed its wreaths;
And ’tis my faith that every flower
Enjoys the air it breathes.
The birds around me hopped and played,
Their thoughts I cannot measure:--
But the least motion which they made
It seemed a thrill of pleasure.
The budding twigs spread out their fan,
To catch the breezy air;
And I must think, do all I can,
That there was pleasure there.
If this belief from heaven be sent,
If such be Nature’s holy plan,
Have I not reason to lament
What man has made of man?
And if in the meanwhile you encounter Spring, please send her up to Yorkshire!!!
