Or, as the BBC weather girls have been insisting, the first day of meteorological spring. Meteorological spring? I thought, the first time I heard it. And then it dawned on me. Not spring, but what she meant by meteorological spring. To meteorologists the year is divided quite neatly into four season. March, April and May are spring; June, July and August summer; September, October and November are autumn and, quite obviously, December, January and February are winter. Simple, isn't it? If only the weather would oblige!
I didn't exactly throw open the curtains this morning as it seemed a tad gloomy, somewhat darker than it has been of late. But when I did draw them back, what a dank and drear sight met my eyes. The Downs across the valley were shrouded in low cloud and hidden from sight. The trees and bushes in the garden were dripping, although there was no proper rain. All the same, the daffodils are in bloom in the park - as are the snowdrops in the woods.
The first, tender leaves have appeared on sycamore trees and I have spotted just one windflower. Spring is on the way, despite the dankness of today.