Spring? Not here ...

"Oh, how do you know

When Spring has come?

Still falls the snow

And the birds are dumb."

The grass will wear

A brighter tone.

The thrush will dare

To carol alone.

The silver rain

Will gently fall,

The woods will gain

The blackbird's call.

But the way to tell

And the surest way,

Is to find a dell,

Where the breezes play,

And seek and seek

Where the daisy, soon,

Will show like a meek

White baby moon;

When your foot treads,

With tender fear,

On seven white heads, -

Then Spring is here.

by Dorothy Una Ratcliffe

Many little white Snowdrop heads have been and gone ... 
but still no real sign of Spring.  
Winter drags on ... cruelly determined.
Refusing to relinquish it's grip.

They walked along the seafront, but it was grim.
Brittle grey sand hitting them, stinging their faces.
A churlish, bullying wind beat them into submission,
sending them home.

Grandma's been watching Mary Berry and making sugar coated flowers!

They sought solace at Grandma and Grandpa's house,
a comforting roast beef dinner,
and birthday cake for Grandpa ... 
and chocolate!