The peace of old winter is mingling with lovely little chimes of spring. I literally gasped when I entered a driveway I hadn't visited for a couple of weeks and found it queened over by magnolia flowers. The person who was with me smiled happily; they had known what I'd see, and left it as a beautiful surprise for me.
I managed to get one photograph before having to hurry along - because although the sky in the picture is bright blue ...
... right behind us was a thunderstorm.
(That image has not been altered to black and white.)
Small roadside bushes are also beginning to flower, and lately I've come home with stems of lavender and pink manuka and - er, other pink flowers whose name I don't know. Saturday is Imbolc, the quickening of the year. I've been bringing paperwhites in from my own garden.
It's still cardigan and coat weather, however.
Today I made cinnamon scrolls for afternoon tea. The recipe is very simple. I used one and a half cups of flour, 25g butter (well I ended up using 50g because the first lot fell on the floor, after sliding down my dress of course), 3 teaspoons of baking powder, and water. Making a light dough, I cut strips and layered them with a brown sugar and cinnamon mix. Then I rolled the strips, cut them in half, and baked them for about ten minutes of 250 degrees celsius.
I have two new books to read. A Georgette Heyer novel, since so many of my friends love her books, and Weathering by Lucy Wood, since its description sounded so alluring, and which I think will be a cold rainy day read.
As I look out my window right now, the neighbour's house is gleaming with creamy afternoon sunshine and small birds are darting back and forth to select just the right sleep-tree for themselves before the coming night. I'm dreaming of river-run woods and country peace. I think I might put aside my new books for a while and read a certain one I've not looked at since I lay it down with a sigh, half a year ago ... I might just ease myself again into Emma's gentle dreams ... although of course I risk seeing every grammar mistake and awful sentence.
And now that lovely light has gone, just like that, and the day is dimming. I hope your own day is beautiful.
(By the way, I deliberately wrote a mild post today, as a way of holding my own heart after a day of reading callousness, hatred, and willful misunderstandings online. I have been thinking deeply about subjects like game hunting, boundaries for social media aquaintanceships, and so on, but sometimes quiet is a response just as mindful as debate.)