…it’s just around the corner!  :fingers crossed:

It still amazes me how in touch I am with the seasons here.  No make-believe, no pretending, no looking at the calendar to convince myself of the turning.  The change in season is on my list of thins I appreciate most about living here. Back home in Texas we have “weather”, not seasons.  Unless you count burning in “hell” or freezing as seasons.  To be fair, the weather in Austin in glorious most times of the year except summer (June-September) when the sun tries to scorch you.  There can be cold winter days, even down to 0 Celsius, but they don’t last and its usually  sunny and mild (think 15 degrees!).  But you don’t get the pleasure of having survived the dark, dreary winter, which propels you to anticipate spring and summer in a way I never have.

We go for a walk down our lane most days.  The tiny road runs along the upper ridge, is low traffic, and the views out over the valley and abandoned Demesne are spectacular.  Yesterday morning it was brilliantly sunny, though crisp, and my heart was filled with gladness at the yellow flowers on the gorse and the song of the little birds!  I haven’t noticed them during the winter, but their chatter has gladdened my heart over the past several days as I hear them more and more.

A tiny Robin alighted on a bush as we walked past, singing her sweet song, and I thanked her; telling her how beautiful she was.  She sang back and I told her there were bread crumbs out at our house that she was very welcome to!  She sang and watched us go by.   We chatted to the neighbors, who were out working on their gardens in the fine weather.  I discovered a little of the history of our house and learned that our own front garden was about to become a magical place, designed for perfect spring revelry.

It seems Mr. Twomey, or his mother, planted an entire front garden of bulbs.  Their green shoots have already emerged and the tender snowdrops have given their show.  Now we await the glorious first chorus.  We were told that the house was already abandoned in the early seventies.  Mr. Twomey, a bachelor farmer, was the last occupant and 30 in 1911.  This left the house  silent and alone for many years before being purchased by the Bailey’s in the late 90’s.  Our neighbor, who spent her childhood on this lane, told of her own delight at peeking into the neglected garden each spring.  The beauty and romance of the forgotten house with its Secret Garden and old wooden stairs….

Romantic, isn’t it?

 

 

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