The first signs of spring came with the neighbor's tree sprouting soft small petals and the perpetual breeze blowing through Canterbury ensured a steady flutter of white and lightly pink petals. More trees sprouted green leaves and those were plucked and blown by the wind to spin and drift in the air.
And, possibly most magical of all, are the puffs of cotton-like seeds (from a tree I can't identify) whirling in the wind along the Great Stour River. My first encounter with these magical puffs of reproduction was on a run and at first there were just a few floating along in front of me. And there were little piles of puff lining the pathway and as I ran, more and more of these puffs came eddying towards me. It's a good thing I like to look up often, because when I did look up it was a delight to see the air above me just buzzing with puffs.
I know it's a part of nature that happens all over the world, even in California, but this broad comes from urban/suburban roots and there isn't much swirling of anything in the wind. There's also the magic of witnessing seasons in a different country that I'm sure is fueling my joy. I've witnessed these puffs in both Amsterdam and Hannover, and it was just as captivating.
But enough with the rambling, I've got coffees to drink and pictures to take.
Your Broad Abroad,