The bugs seem to think it is summer.

They buzz around our heads, nip at our heels; converge on bare skin, leaving welts on ankles and necks.

Luckily we are dressed in layers.

Winter, not ready to admit it has worn out its welcome, clings to the corners and smothers the sky.

Spring however, knows this is her season.

She will not be hurried along or delayed. She coaxes and cajoles the flowers into opening; writes her own invitation, celebrates her own arrival, settles in and makes herself at home.