Spring

In the midst of bleak grey stormy skies new life announces itself.

Beautiful, inspiring; the perpetual cycle of life.

Life returns to the landscape, the light returns to the skies, the birdsong is vibrant as the new day starts and with it the Irish wake from their hibernation and the weary dredge through winter.

Spring infuses even the heaviest heart if you open your eyes to the rebirth everywhere.

This article by Adam Winson brought my attention to the writings of George Orwell: Spring is here, and they can’t stop you enjoying it

“Spring is here, even in London, and they can’t stop you enjoying it. This is a satisfying reflection. How many a time have I stood watching the toads mating, or a pair of hares having a boxing match in the young corn, and thought of all the important persons who would stop me enjoying this if they could. But luckily they can’t. So long as you are not actually ill, hungry, frightened or immured in a prison or a holiday camp, Spring is still Spring. The atom bombs are piling up in the factories, the police are prowling through the cities, the lies are streaming from the loudspeakers, but the earth is still going round the sun, and neither the dictators nor the bureaucrats, deeply as they disapprove of the process, are able to prevent it.”  George Orwell 1946

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