The words of this song keep coming back to me as I find little groups of crocuses around the garden.
Like with so many spring bulbs, you spend hours watching over them, singing to them, telling them little stories, begging them to open. Then just as your back is turned (you have put the kettle on to boil, or just nipped to the loo), TA DA! The most magnificent flower has sprung open!
I was just lugging the hoover upstairs when I noticed there was a strange light. Through the window I spied this. Hang the housework, I had to get out there!