The soft snow gathers in a lump on the tips of my boots as I walk through the shallow drifts. The mud showing through the wet, white blanket where I’ve walked. The sun warms my face and I have to pull my hat off, it’s too warm for that now. My heart sings with the birds, feeling finally freed from the shackles of winter and I look forward to the first colourful splashes of the early spring flowers.
Sweet Gale Cottage 
Don’t know which I like better; your drawing, or your narration. Both capture our spring.
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