Spring. The season of rebirth. Revered by world religions with
festivals of joy, hope and redemption: Easter, Passover, Spring Equinox. Even
Jedi-ism marks the sacred season with holidays such as Ewok Monday and
Luke-I-Am-Your-Father’s Day. And if ever there was a season where the Force
reveals, surely it is Spring. Life erupting from the Earth’s very crust, green
shoots exploding from the ground to greet the sun’s rays.
London. This city of brick and bustle. Once plagued by the putrid stench
of medieval road-side sewerage and smothered blind by blankets of thick tarry
smog. But in this century, Spring’s tendrils emerge across London’s parks and
squares, heaths and commons, gardens and window-boxes, blossoming into fields
of resplendent colour. Daffodils so copious in number that one wonders how
local councils prioritised floral park embellishment against such fiscal
austerity...
