Skies are grey, and there is rain in our forecast for the nth day in a row. No drought in the eastern Ontario highlands this year, and that is a fine thing.
In the street, a west wind cavorts in the gutters, ruffles dead leaves and other detritus like playing cards. It eases around the corner of the little blue house in the village and sets the copper wind bells on the deck in exuberant motion.
In the kitchen, coffee is in progress and and a little Mozart (The Magic Flute) fills the air, but something more is needed this morning, something that will invoke springtime and blue skies, summon sunlight into this day.
A pot of red and yellow tulips in the window is the perfect cantrip. Alight from within, they are jeweled lanterns, every one.