I am feeling mischievous. The frost keeps creeping over the grass and is cheating you into thinking that it is colder than it is. Fires are lit but are then allowed to smoulder out, which does ruin some of my fun but instead I get to hear the birds and feel the breeze follow you in through the door. I chase it around the room until it blows itself out and then race back to the door for the next gust.
I can smell the Spring now: it’s fighting its way back from the dark corners and hidden cobwebs of Winter. The wind has shaken the last of the clinging beach leaves from their reaching fingers, freeing the limbs to renew their growth. A covering of green luminescence is starting to take over the trees like an explosion bubbling and bursting from broad winter buds to greet the blaze of blue reflected from the sky into the bells below.
The kitchen is starting to fill with smells of young shoots, sprouts and greens to make your skin glow. Easter Sunday lunch is a promise of Wellingtons with egg gilded, golden pastry or roasted celeriac to tempt even the most dedicated of carnivores. The Bunny is ready and thankful that this is not the time for her to be caught, stewed and basted; instead to be worshipped and followed for her assurance of silver wrapped treats to sparkle and melt in the sun with the promise of new life exploding from the earth.
Come to my Dragon, eat my food, imbibe with me and let your children run with the Bunny and leave with chocolate.