The Rites of Spring . . .

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There have been quite a few posts around the blogosphere of late about the joyous arrival of Spring, after what was, for those in the northern hemisphere anyway, a rather arduous winter, with memorable blizzards and frigid cold spells which left us all wondering about the reality of global warming. And celebrate we should, for Spring is indeed a wondrous time of year; why not indulge in multitudes of glowing, brilliant, luminous photographs of flowers under dazzling azur skies ? Why not actually go outside, get away from the computer screen, and inhale the heady odors of the real thing ? Ah Spring, hope springs eternal ! All sorts of flora and fauna come out of hibernation, with a spring in their step, a gleam in their eye, and bubbling with invigorating thoughts in their minds, yes, vivid, vigorous thoughts of reproduction.
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And I would not have been the roving reporter of all things strange and fabulous whom you are counting on to bring you something just a little bit different had I not produced this photographic essay when the opportunity arose, and arose, and arose again . . .
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All I can say is, I hope he took her out for a good dinner later, and offered her a big bouquet of Spring roses . . . Heaven help him, one can't help but marvel at his single-minded persistence, and her epic stoicism; this series of photos spanned at least half an hour . . .
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A spectator watched from a first floor balcony, running back and forth, wishing he could get into the fray . . .
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