It really was the most beautiful day today, here in Wales.
I awoke to a sharp shard of sunlight between the curtain tops, which hadn't quite met when I'd drawn them last night, and I felt the promise that the day was going to be a good one.
By mid morning...I had been lured outside by the blueness of the sky, and the need to just breathe in some of almost-Spring air, after what seems like the longest, rainy winter.
I had bought some Primrose plants some weeks ago, but had deferred planting them out, just in case we saw more frost.
Today was going to be the day!
I started removing the coloured plants from their small containers, and prepared the pots which were soon to be their new home.
The earth was cold and wet, but was so welcome, after what seemed like an age since the Autumn, when I was last out 'pottering'.
As I transplanted a particularly vibrant, multi-bloomed little yellow specimen- I had this really vivid memory trigger.
I was about 10 years old.
My grandparents lived in a place called Wenvoe, which is on the semi-rural outskirts of my town.
Their property was set in a large plot, and as you entered the driveway, there was what was referred to as 'the orchard' to the right side.
In reality- it was a smallish collection of fruit trees, but located amidst them was a Well.
This particular day I'm remembering, was an Easter Sunday.
It was the most glorious day.
I recalled my brother, sister and myself running towards the Well, as in the bucket at the bottom, we were going to find our Easter eggs. ( There was no water in it, by the way!)
It had an 'ornamental wishing-well roof' and was solid stone. As a child, you just felt the need to go over to it and hang over the side to look into the bottom-but this day...the urge was even greater than usual.Today- it contained 'treasure'!
As we brought the bucket up containing the chocolate eggs- I looked beyond the Well, to the grassy bank, which was strewn with these happy yellow little plants.
I remember the scent of the morning...it's impossible to describe a smell accurately, but the lingering memory of this particular day is of 'meadowy sunshine promise'.
The warmness of the sun exaggerated the calming scents of the trees, plants, and vibrant green grass, and the element of promise was strong. The promise that before the passage of too many more weeks- we would be embedded in Summertime, when sunny days were guaranteed from dawn 'til dusk, well into September- when 'new shoes, back to school days' would return.
Playing outside and doing childlike things would be the order of the day, from shortly after shovelling in your last mouthful of breakfast Weetabix, until reluctant bedtime.
The sun always shone in the 70's, in Summertime. It wasn't an expectation- it was a given.
As I firmly pressed this little yellow plant into it's new pot this morning- "What WAS that smell"? Ah yes... good old-fashioned nostalgia.