Is it just me, or did spring burst out of hiding this weekend?
Rising early on a Saturday, spotting the blue skies peeping through the curtains,
Clearing the yard in the sunshine, jacket hanging from a nail on the wall,
Walking home from the shops, arms laden with rhubarb, bedding plants and a vintage coffee pot,
Mud in my fingernails, mud in my hair, digging and raking and sowing,
Veggie sausage sandwiches oozing with tomato sauce after a morning of garden graft,
Browsing flower markets; vibrant sounds, smells and sights of the city on a Saturday,
Mastering the art of flaky pastry: pink rhubarb and almond tart with ice cream and sticky rhubarb syrup,
Pink grapefruit juice running down my mouth and arms, marmalade on toast and a morning paper,
Dancing to jazz in our dressing gowns,
Plump lambs lazing in the sun as I run through bright long fields,
Coffee just the way I like it, served in my favourite coffee mug, while filling in the census at the kitchen table (do I have a religion? are we classed as partners? is there a comma missing in that question?),
Finally signing up for this after months of procrastination,
A sunshine-filled chickpea soup, finishing the weekend the way it began.