Spring is seen as a time of growth, renewal, of new life (both plant and animal) being born. The term is also used more generally as a metaphor for the start of better times.
“You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep Spring from coming.” ― Pablo Neruda
I've wrote this line many times. It goes: "The only reason why I appreciate winter is the knowledge that after it's over - spring arrives". This season, I'm restless. Winter is prolonging it's stay with us, it turned into one of those guests that fail to see the hunts the hostess is gently providing: it is time to leave.
January turned to February, but my guest still dwells in my back yard, and on the streets of my town. There should be early flowers blooming by now. However, all is put on hold.
In order to brighten our bleak winter days (that are impolitely still among us), this is my way of letting the light into our daily lives.
“It was such a spring day as breathes into a man an ineffable yearning, a painful sweetness, a longing that makes him stand motionless, looking at the leaves or grass, and fling out his arms to embrace he knows not what.”― John Galsworthy, The Forsyte Saga
“When spring came, even the false spring, there were no problems except where to be happiest. The only thing that could spoil a day was people and if you could keep from making engagements, each day had no limits. People were always the limiters of happiness except for the very few that were as good as spring itself.”― Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast
In case we are yet not ready to embrace our inner spring-child, I'll teach you how to make a wonderful bouquet made of roses.
....and the end result:
“It's spring fever. That is what the name of it is. And when you've got it, you want—oh, you don't quite know what it is you do want, but it just fairly makes your heart ache, you want it so!”
― Mark Twain
Another thing I think might be helpful, is nice cup of tea, followed by a poem.
Lines written in early spring
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?
The last thing I can give you, is a friendly hug and a hope of seeing our Snowdrops blooming soon.
♥♥ Pinky Honey