io wake up every morning at the moment with a spring in my step, as I know it is my favourite season. The sun blazes down, warming the earth, as the fluffy clouds slowly part. In my back garden I can see the young sprouts in the flower bed, being rustled and squashed by the cheeky squirrels, scuttling about, dancing across the obstacle course. Wispy wildflowers decorate the border, showing off their lavender and milky outfits, with crimson tulips peeking through.
Buzz, buzz … a furry bumblebee heads towards the red rhododendrons in search of nectar, not realising that it is acting as a pollinator, covered in pollen from the plant’s anthers.
The branches of the magnolia tree wave, sending the spring breeze washing over me; its magnificent lilac flowers bring colour to the garden as it awakens. I lie down flat under the baby blue sky that’s dotted with delicate cirrus clouds, the grass a pillow for my head. A blackbird hops on to a branch, pecking at a worm, focused on its lunch. Then I hear the melody of magpies, blue tits and robins. I zip around with my arms by my sides, pretending I’m soaring like the birds.
In the garden, I always feel at home. I can play with my friends here or come alone. Whatever the season, there is always a lot to see, but spring is definitely the one for me.