Where is Spring?

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!!!