Algy perched limply in a spiky japonica bush, his feathers drip-drip-dripping in the rain, and gazed in wonder at the masses of red buds and beginnings of new green leaves which had appeared in the last few days. It was still dark and dismal, and very wet and windy, but there was no doubt now that spring was lurking around the corner, and Algy was reminded of the opening of a poem he had once heard:

Now in the dark of February rains,
Poor lovers of the sunshine, spring is born,
The earthy fields are full of hidden corn,
And March’s violets bud along the lanes

If your days seem dark and dismal too, don’t forget that spring is waiting just around the corner to brighten up the world again 🙂

[Algy is quoting the first verse of the poem In February by the 19th century Scottish writer and minister, George MacDonald.]

Source: adventuresofalgy

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Now in the Dark of February Rains…

Algy perched limply in a spiky japonica bush, his feathers drip-drip-dripping in the rain, and gazed in wonder at the masses of red buds and beginnings of new green leaves which had appeared in the last few days. It was still dark and dismal, and very wet and windy, but there was no doubt now that spring was lurking around the corner, and Algy was reminded of the opening of a poem he had once heard:

Now in the dark of February rains,
Poor lovers of the sunshine, spring is born,
The earthy fields are full of hidden corn,
And March’s violets bud along the lanes

If your days seem dark and dismal too, don’t forget that spring is waiting just around the corner to brighten up the world again 🙂

[Algy is quoting the first verse of the poem In February by the 19th century Scottish writer and minister, George MacDonald.]

On a fine day in the West Highlands the view to the north is always the loveliest, as it reveals the depth of colours in the landscape and sea. So Algy moved away from the deep freshwater loch, and with the sun at his back he looked out towards the Hebridean islands. The moorland grasses were positively glowing, putting on their best show of the year, and he thought of a poem by one of his favourite authors, the 19th century Scottish author and Minister, George MacDonald:

          By the roadside, like rocks of golden ore
          That make the western river-beds so bright,
          The briar and the furze are all alight!
          Perhaps the year will be so fair no more,
          But now the fallen, falling leaves are gay,
          And autumn old has shone into a Day!

[Algy is quoting the second verse of George MacDonald’s poem Autumn’s Gold.]