Rough winds do shake the darling buds today. Bright green against swirling fog, new leaves brighten the grey. Each hour they unfurl a fraction more. Soon they’ll flutter like tiny flags, holding fast to their branches.

Spring’s false start will tempt us into thinking Winter has passed.

Flinging open windows and doors, we’ll beat rugs and air quilts. We’ll sweep paths, unpack shorts and arrange chairs in a sunny spot. We’ll prune the plants we left till all danger had passed.

But Winter’s grip is not so loose and will not let go so easy. With bitter winds, she’ll tear blossoms from branches and like a jealous bridesmaid hurl petals across the lawn.

Then, after a bright cold night, she’ll drape herself in sparkling white across the countryside, chilling every living thing to its core. Sensitive types will not survive.

Little by little Spring will emerge triumphant, her arms filled with flowers. Extravagant colour will daub dull green as the bush clamours with nestlings.

Armies of golden daffodils trumpet Spring’s arrival and in paddocks frisky lambs, calves and foals dash hither and yon. Ducklings make small wakes on swollen dams.

This last day of Winter gives us rain, wind and fog while Nature’s changing course rolls ever on.

With acknowledgements to Henry Neville (a.k.a. William Shakespeare)