And now there is a blue lilt to the air, a gauzy greenness an unmistakable shimmer that runs through the days. (I have lived the taste of this before in another time and place — but when and where?) Just around the bend in the road lies that fairytale ball, Spring. Every blade, every branch, every blossom in the kingdom is invited. Who can resist such excitement? See how the world readies itself for festivities with ribbons and jewels. Young oak leaves unfurling from tight casings hypnotic green, camellias tossing ruffled candy pink skirts, queenly irises yawning purple and gold, tremulous tulips breaking like dawn, jonquils and daffodils nodding dainty heads, straight-backed lavender spearing the air, starry faced jasmine bursting out of sharp-tipped buds, brilliant poppies catching sunlight like a lucky penny, wisteria with its tumbling grape-like clusters scenting the world with wisterious allure. I stumble amidst the incandescent beauty…
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SkalkSkryf 
En hier by ons kom die herfs so stadig aangedrentel.
Die Pavita K Mehta se skryfstyl laat mens nogal dink aan Annie Dillard. Hulle toor met woorde, die twee. Like dit.
En ja, hier draai die wiel in die ander rigting, bekruip die koue ons met elke geel blaartjie wat val. En dit is ook goed so. Dit moet so wees.