Spring begins in Victoria sometime in December, just before the 'official' end (calendar-wise) of autumn.  It begins with blossoms on the decorative fruit trees along Hillside Avenue and flowers on bushes on Caledonia by Quadra and scented English violets in various gardens and winter pansies being planted in civic flowerbeds – at least these are what I notice first.   

Winter happens in the midst – sometimes snow – usually short-lived – and chilly cold rather than frigid cold – and days stingy of light . 

Then in February our city orchards begin to bloom.  This is a vista along View Street where the trees are at their finest for blossoms.  Soon they will begin to shower down petals and this is magical.

It's different from springtime in Ontario where I lived for many years.  It's different.  It's springtime in February in a Victoria climate. 

A stop and stare up into the heights of a tree that has put forth such an exquisite  expression of beauty  will reward  both the viewer and the viewed on many levels .   You can feel the gratitude of a tree being admired.

Sometimes staying in the moment leads to a sudden leap into the past:  admiring this pink lady today on  a street where construction was happening below brought two images to mind: engrossed thusly in India with the sounds and smells of scooters around me;  engrossed thusly in my beloved southern Ontario with the scent of freshly ploughed earth joining the fragrance of the flowers.

This newborn state of Spring is so fleeting that the wish not to miss it is accompanied by that slight longing at the sight of it knowing that now it has happened it soon will be gone and an appreciation that seems to expand as I grow older of the time of anticipation. 

I seem to have missed the 'haze' stage of willow trees this year – darn – they are now in tiny baby leaf form:  I must have blinked.

Lilac bud. Essence of lilac.  Perfection.