I woke up suddenly this morning with early morning sunlight pouring into my bedroom through a gap in the blind. I opened my eyes, and before I even had time to register the view my tics said:
“Good morning, yellow roses.”
And there they were, swaying gently in the breeze, the first roses of the year blooming in my garden.
Spring is well and truly here, and it’s lovely. But after my tics carried on about the beauty of the roses a bit longer, I rolled over and went back to sleep.