Lady Spring here in Tasmania is a notoriously fickle beast. She flirts with Winter and Summer in equal amounts and keeps all guessing til the very end as to who will win her heart. One morning we find ourselves walking through the clouds as icy fog rolls down from the rivulet, only to consider the first swim of the year come afternoon. It is a time of push and pull and we all feel a little battle-scarred by the tumultuousness of it all.
And the natural world is feeling it too. Leaves are bursting through Winter stubs and branches creak under the weight of their new load. All about is a riot of colour.
We gather the pops of yellow that line our driveway; we scarcely knew we missed their presence until they returned again once more. And with pollen stained hands we overlapped little bouquets and fastened them with knotted twine. Over and over, one after the other, until a garland emerges. A crown fit for Lady Spring and her coquettish ways.