There has been, in my part of the world, had a strikingly dry and warm spring, and great displays of the seasonal wild flowers - are, at least, they are shown to their best effect.
After the blazing daffodils have withered, the stalwart but unsung dandelions are at present "holding the fort" in grassy areas - awaiting takeover by the glossy and shimmering buttercups of early summer.
We are currently in the midst of that especially charming fortnight when the main forest trees begin to unfold their foliage ; and - when there is a blue sky behind - the colour of the translucent young leaves is wonderful.
Being English, my cheerfulness is tempered by the (supposed) association of a dry spring with a wet summer to follow - which I once saw explained "scientifically" in a newspaper article (so it must be true...).
But the reality of weather on this island is of extreme unpredictability; except when there is a prolonged spell of high barometric pressure near to the solstices, when the weather can get "stuck" for two or three months of sweltering heat or biting cold, according to season.
The trick is to take a bit of time and make some effort to enjoy our weather, whenever it is good - but when it comes to plans: don't depend on anything.
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This reminded me of the time I got a sunburn in August 1986 as I cycled through parts of England, with trains helping the process (bought a bicycle in Basingstoke, selling it back to the same shop at a lower price about one week later).
As it turns out, in one week's time I will be in England for only the second time, visiting the Scilly Islands of all places, where they will be commemorating a shipwreck that took place off those islands 150 years ago, taking the lives of ninety percent of those onboard (335 of 372). [7-8 May 1875, SS Schiller, 3,421-ton German ocean liner; bound for Hamburg, from NYC.]
The St Agnes pilot gig plucked a handful of survivors from the water in the morning, after an untimely storm, including my wife's g-grandfather (from St Gallen, CH), who was twenty-two at the time. He had spent the night in one of the two crow's nests, with others, sharing the coat of a man who died during the night.
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