The world is waking up and the inner life of things is shimmering- mating frogs, the rude trumpets of daffodils, Hellebore flowers, lovers forever entwined off St James Street and a hen just having laid an egg. Spring is on the move. As Keith Grahame wrote in ‘The Wind in the Willows’ –
“Spring was moving in the air above and in the earth below and around him (Mole), penetrating even his dark and lowly little house with its spirit of divine discontent and longing.”
