Spring, of all seasons most gratuitous,
Is fold of untaught flower, is race of water,
Is earth’s most multiple, excited daughter;
And those she has least use for see her best
Their paths grown craven and circuitous,
Their visions mountain-clear, their needs immodest.
~ Philip Larkin, from Spring
I ask the pardon of any readers who live in less accommodating climes and must find this premature. But the orchards (what’s left of them) are awash in mustard blossoms and walking just now I embarrassed two hummingbirds mating in the boughs of a flowering tree.