Spring is coming

Some say it is here.
Little blue and yellow flowers are appearing on the verges. The milder weather enables lighter clothing, only three jumpers and two jackets, sometimes no gloves are required! Today the sky was blue and only the last of the dirty big rain clouds darkening the sky as they head towards the continent irritate. The trees are beginning to bud and the birds are pairing off and nest building happily in the rather chilly sunshine. Their cheery songs brightening the day. Lassies wear less and do the best to make the boys look and the girls bitch. I expect the clocks will change once again (Spring forward and Fall back?) and the 'Daily Mail' will bitch about these changes costing the UK money. Ah Spring, when young men's fancy turns to thoughts of love, as if they had been thinking of anything else anyway? Young women had naturally been concentrating on domestic skills, developing business knowledge and complaining that men had it easy. They never looked at the boys, ever.

Spring, the Sweet Spring

from Summer’s Last Will and Testament by Thomas Nashe (1600)

Spring, the sweet spring, is the year’s pleasant king, Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring, Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing: Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo! The palm and may make country houses gay, Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day, And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay: Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo! The fields breathe sweet, the daisies iss our feet, Young lovers meet, old wives a-sunning sit, In every street these tunes our ears do greet: Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to witta-woo!