It’s a time for contemplation, on endings and new beginnings, on the past, the present and the future, on the cyclical nature of all life and it’s unpredictability. This is mirrored outside my window, where at last there is a breath of spring is in the air and it looks as though we’ve escaped the clutches of a weak-willed winter. It certainly feels that way. It’s time to plant primroses, and daffodils, to revel in the purple, lowly crocus and keep a lookout for the snowdrop, and to prepare for spring pastels. However, we have had a very warm winter, and so it seems more likely, that the temperatures will plummet to zero, freezing the budding shoots, the pale tinged blossom buds and early spring blossoms eternally in time.