This is from the classic Jethro Tull song, Pussy Willow. As a much-beloved harbinger of spring, they have long delighted me when they appear. One of my earliest and fondest memories is of the huge pussy willow in my grandmother's front garden at Erindale. There it stood - a majestic tree than gran always called a "French" willow, which bore the most incredibly large, cottony shoots far bigger than any I had seen before. I watched them sprout every spring and always loved to stroke them. So seeing this tree bloom at Svandammen was a real treat.



Trust me - these are not snow covered branches, but real pussy willow (sälg) sprouting. It must be spring! The days are noticably warmer and the ice is beginning to melt. It is bright and sunny and you can feel the buzz in the air as you walk around. Friends in the Netherlands and Germany are already planting out their gardens and watching the bulbs appear and the shops here are gearing up for the frenzy of planting that will begin as soon as the ground has thawed. My friend Carolyn in Örebro has been ordering up a storm (her love is the perlagonium and she has a stunning collection of them) and I have been watching the garden to see all the changes unfolding. So far, it's still just snow.



The building bug has also started. People are dusting off the deck chairs, repairing outdoor furniture so that everything will be ready for summer. While down at the harbour, a delivery truck for a local hardware shop pulled up and began loading timber and plywood onto the small pier. This pier is often used by the inhabitants of the small island of Bedarön, just across the bay from Nynäshamn when they need to come across for shopping. But the water is still iced over, albeit rapidly thinning ice. Imagine how surprised I was to see this guy drive across on his moped with a trailer attached.



I know it might look solid enough just here, but slightly further out towards Bedarön and just to the left of this picture, the ice is breaking up and looks more like this:



I think he was taking a real risk by driving across during a thaw with no life jacket or any kind of safety gear. I think a boat would have been safer, with a piece of timber or metal to break up the ice. Still, he seemed happy enough as he loaded up his supplies and then turned around to make the 500 metre journey back across Gårdsfjärden.



Yes, he made it safely, but imagine if he has gone through the ice. It is around 8 metres deep and I think it would have gone straight to the bottom. Still, it was something you don't see every day.

Soon after, the tugboat St Olof came in from the north, breaking up a lot of the ice and carving a pathway over the bay. Soon the bay will be completely clear and it will feel like it's time to launch the boat.



We have a busy few days ahead, with the 30th birthday of Lars-Göran's eldest son (we have got him something really special), a funeral to attend and Easter to spend with my mother-in-law. The forecast is for spring like weather, so I hope we find time to get more done on Fiona so she can be launched in April. So keep up the clear, crisp mornings, the sunny afternoons and pray that we've seen the last of the snow.