Spring is miraculous

‘Miraculous, spring is miraculous, don’t you think?’

   They stood together, gazing around them in silence for a moment.

   ‘Every year we expect it, but there are no guarantees that Nature will do what she did last hear. Then there it is again, the pale-pink apple blossom, the carpets of bluebells, that soft yellow of the primrose …’

   Karen laughed. ‘You’ve got it bad.’

   ‘I know, I know. I don’t care. I just love how happy it makes me feel. [---]’ 

H. Boyd