What a bit of sun we had at the weekend. The wildlife went wild with life. The horses snorted and grazed on the hill, flicking and swishing their tails. Bees bumbled from flower to flower. Butterflies flitted on the breeze and carved their hearts onto the leaves where they settled. Blossom tugged down and blown by every turn of the air. Raucous morning singing and the clamorous requests for more food from the young birds stuffed into every crack in the wall, overhanging tile, hole in the tree or crook of the branch, was the constant music of the day. The sun climbed high and the birds grew impatient. "It's here," the mother bird cried. "What's here?" squawked the father bird. "Summer, summer is here now." "But it cant be, it was only just Christmas," the father bird protested. "What's Christmas?" shrieked a baby bird. "What does Christmas taste like?" shrieked his sister. "I want to eat Christmas," another baby bird demanded. "Never mind Christmas, Summer is here. OUT!!! OUT!!! EVERYBODY OUT!!!" the mother bird cried. So they all flew out, in every direction but the right one. They collided with windows and tumbled from branch to branch. They would get the hang of it. Summer was here. Summer was only visiting though. Summer was just popping in for a chat. The winds shifted and blew in from the north. Spring is a tricksy thing. The horses didn't mind though. The grass was still green. The little birds would shiver in the trees. "Dad?" said a baby bird, between the shivers. "What son?" "Is this Christmas?"