When does a year begin?
For me it is this day, when the sun is finally shining and you walk out in hope because surely they must be here by now,
and even though it’s not much of a surprise,
even though it’s become something of a ritual for you, this watching for them, waiting,
I’m not sure there is anything more lovely, more hope-giving, than the sight of these wee flowers poking up their heads through the mud, and rough ground, and glinting in the sun.