Looking out of my window for nine days out of ten, you'd be forgiven for thinking that we were not in the first throes of Spring, it having officially started on 20 March. It has been wall-to-wall grey skies punctuated with rain, rain, rain, or snow, snow, snow for weeks on end, nay, months on end. Once in a very seldom blue moon, we have seen a strange yellow thing up in the sky, but it hasn't stuck around for long, preferring to hide behind the clouds for another few weeks or so. The thermometer seems to be stuck on single figures, mainly below 5 Centigrade and sometimes below zero. This last weekend has seen non-stop snow. With the wind-chill factor, these last few days have even seen icicles on the trees in my garden.
It may not be Spring outside, but I decided it was high time I did something about it: I treated myself to a bunch of flowers. Something I never do, normally. Now every time I enter the room, my spirits soar. It can do what it likes outside now. See if I care?