“Spring is Sprung, the grass is riz.
I wonder where the birdie is.
They say the boidie’s on the wing.
But that’s absoid. The wing is on the bird.”
Anonymous

Whenever I hear the mention of Spring, I remember my Mother chanting this little ditty to me as a child. I now quietly say it to myself over and over again, rather annoyingly. However if it brings a memory of her lovely kind face to mind, then that’s ok with me.
We’ve had a few hours in the last week when I actually thought it felt
like the weight of winter was lifting and ‘Spring is Sprung’ only to be cast down again into a wet quagmire of despair…
Wandering along with my head bowed, I noticed a patch of purple in the boggy grass. I’ve never really looked closely at violets so I got right down to take a picture and was overwhelmed by the delicious scent. Again I had a flashback and was reminded of a small bottle of violet perfume I was given as a child. It smelt so good I tried to drink it. Obviously not the best idea as sadly it didn’t taste as good as it smelled.
I urge everyone now, as you are wandering around with your head down, if you spot a patch of violets, to get right down and sniff. Singularly, the perfume of the flower is fairly undetectable but ‘en masse’ it is an absolute joy.
