My senses are instinctively tense, this northern girl hears a beckoning… Symphonic whirls scattering her marvels on winter’s barren scape. I wish to swing wide my windows and feel the rush of fresh tantalising hope ~ Spring ~

I know my House of Dreams nestles cool in a forest of white. I still long…deep and passionately for my world of seasons and their yearly fleeting masterpieces.

Today I shut out the African heat and city bustle, and whisk my heart over seas and lands straining to feel lyrics of spring's poetry.

I searched for some reminders ~ Strawberries and Whip, escorted gently up from the Cape, souvenirs of civilisation ~ Crimson blossoms, the flare of foreign beauty ~ Gifts laced with bow’s ~ And the weekend…