heralds of spring

 The air tastes of spring tonight.
A faint, but distinct scent of wet soil. No flowery scent yet, no grass - it's just the earth finally starting to breathe again. It's been a prisoner of ice and snow ever since November.
But it's giving up now, the snow - on days like these you can watch it melt away in the sun, getting less and less from on hour to the next in the afternoon.... the meltwaters are flooding the river in the area. It's completely free of ice now, but still seems to stand still. The movement is up - rising to the shores - not foward. 

...

It's the air that's different.
If you catch a sheltered spot, the sun is so strong that you can feel it warm you. The wind ... the everlasting wind doesn't bite anymore, but still it demonstrates its reign: it's not that warm yet.
The air is dusty in the city. When you look into the distance, you can see a veil of dust over everything. But the sky... the sky is immaculate in its blue, with feathery clouds chasing along, and the sun so bright.

...

White and violet on a meadow that has clearly suffered from its icy captivity: crocusses and snowdrops fight their way up, the first signs of spring. Nature arises slowly. My so beloved green is hardly anywhere to be seen yet, except for those tiny, colourful heralds of spring.
Green. Who would have thought I could miss green? And yet I do.

....soon.
Soon.