A wistful St Valentine's Day

Here I am again - tentatively continuing after my hibernation - and, thank you fellow bloggers for your kind welcome back good wishes.

Sunday morning, Valentine's Day, and I am sitting as usual in my kitchen surrounded by reminders in papers and magazines that today is a day for lovers, gifts, red roses, and hopes for the future. No such luck for me. If I was honest, it is many years since the soon to be ex sent me flowers or a card, or even remarked on the significance of 14 February on the calendar. When I cleared out his office after chucking him out, I found a myriad cards, and messages, but, dear readers, none of them were from me. So today I am telling myself that I made the right decision, and perhaps 2010 will be MY year at last.

After such a miserable winter with the most extreme weather for years, at last it looks as if Spring is round the corner. The snowdrops are struggling through, catkins are appearing and my favourite dog walks are becoming less soggy and more manageable. The dogs have hibernated with me - walking has not been a pleasure, and we are longing to stride out again, being able to notice the signs of nature unfurling in the hedgerows and perhaps, very soon, the first lambs of the new season.

Maud has been very ill recently, and after what happened to Violet last year, I held my breath for 48 hours, hoping against hope that all would be well. She is a tough old bird, last week she was 14, and thankfully, she is now well on the road to recovery. Billy waa distraught whilst she was at the vets, he wouldn't eat, and sat mournfully in his bed. I took him with me when I went to fetch Maud, and he was beside himself with delight when the nurse brought Maud out to us. She - true to form - took one look at him, walked past and straight to the door. A good recovery, I think.