Sometimes, like yesterday, spring and winter walk hand in hand, like lovers. At other times, like today, they wave their arms, shake their fists and fight like siblings.
My walk takes me along mossy footpaths that bear the residue of winter’s damp. In the park, the grass has brightened and turned extravert, with all the brashness of early spring. Which season are we in? The sparks of creative fire tell me that spring is here, and it’s time to strip away the trappings of winter. And so I tidy, clear papers, and wipe down the window sills. Then I have a ‘mossy day’, when inspiration is dampened once more. Between the old and the new, that’s just how it is.