My home city of Norwich has for many, many years been an absolute delight in spring time. The council must have taken a decision or some head landscape gardener had a vision - whatever happened I am so thankful.

Throughout the city the grass verges have been filled with thousand upon thousand of bulbs. Snowdrops and crocuses, daffodils and narcissi. They suddenly appear through all the mud and grime of the detritus of winter roads. The first ones are pure, pale shards of colour. Little darts of joy.

As the days and weeks of late winter, early spring go on then more and more appear. Their colours become more vibrant and their blooms more bold.

Its almost an echoing of the way - and I suspect many others too - feel as they emerge from winter...

Having almost closed down or gone into hibernation after the excesses of Christmas and New Year the first signs of spring awaken new hope in me too. Slowly at first and then with increasing vigour.

And if I look back at the posts I've written in recent days I can see a common thread in many. The reflections on the rhythms of life are because I feel the tide of the season turning. The wheel of life turns constantly...