An uncertain spring day, or rather, a typical spring day, indecisive with warm, golden, buttery sunshine chased by the shadows of low scudding clouds on a chilling wind. The newly arisen season still stares blearily at its alarm clock and contemplates hitting the snooze for another week or two.
The gentleman at the compost drop off seems a little disgusted at my cheerful greeting of, "Happy spring!" as cold gusts bluster across the park.
"Still seems like winter to me," he answers, gritting his teeth in what looks like an attempt at a grin-and-bear-it smile.
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