Such a cruel tease, is Spring; she taunts us, flaunts her buds and leaves, makes us want her, need her. She raises our hopes, we who needed warmth and sunshine after a long, cold, dark winter. Then, just when we think we have her, she turns and bites us, with sudden vicious frosts, grey days and rain.
A fickle season, we long for her, we yearn for her touch and then she comes but she is no summer; Spring is growth and awakening, not just the sunshine that we dreamt about but the rain the gardens need. So out come the wellies and umbrellas. You want your April showers to wash my hopes away? No chance! I shall go hunting for rainbows instead.
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