The snowdrops are pushing up. The birds are noisy in the trees. There's a definite change in the light, and there's a tangible scent in the air even to my dulled nostrils. It's all wonderful, but I find myself thinking, "no - not yet, please, just a bit more Winter - a couple of weeks, please".
It's not that I like cold and wet weather, and pitch dark nights that limit how much I get on site in the wee window of time between work and family.
Despite my best attempts, there's not much edible growing on my plot at this time of year, but then the weeds also fall into a slumber and don't grow as frantic. It's like trying to get a bit of housework done while the Toddler's down for a nap. A rare window to get things tidied up, to catch one's breath and plan for the next year.
The wood that needs painted, the rubbish that needs cleared, they stand out so much more starkly when there isn't life erupting and sprouting, shouting "feed me", "tend me", "defend me" and little bits get done here and there, but it's never enough.
I was once one of those new faces, though I'm not worried about being missed when I go.
I'm running out of winter, but when I dwell on it the problem's not the oh-so fast pace of the season's change, but the way I deploy the time that I do have.
This year will be different I tell myself.
As I do every Spring.
Here's hoping the coming season is a good one for you.