When you live in a city, sometimes the signal of spring appears in the supermarket. Daffodils and hyacinths are abundant and cheap. Suddenly, in the ‘seasonal’ aisle, gardening tools and seeds are stacked high.

You hurry on your walk to work, your senses are turned inwards, tuning into the words of the podcast that soundtrack's your commute above the throb of the traffic. Sound corralled into a two-lane road, amplified as the traffic lights change further along, releasing a surge of vehicles into the flow.

You huddle against the chill of the morning air. There is a lot competing for your attention. There is so much to miss when you are moving through space with a purpose and little time. Unless you are paying attention.

Spring always seems to happen in one moment of sudden awareness. You hurry along the busy stretch of road as you always do. until you get to the traffic lights. You have to pause. Always. The lights are always against you, making you stop. But then you are suddenly forced to take notice because the sun is in your face. Your eyes. It is warm and bright, blinding you for the couple of minutes you stand, waiting for the lights to change. It brings you snap into the present. You close your eyes and bathe in its warmth. Lights change and you hurry across and as you enter the gates of the park, suddenly the energy shifts. Even though you don’t dramatically change your pace, everything seems to slow down. And there is a release of tension. You let go and begin to notice. Everything is pulled into focus.

The three old men who walk their assortment of dogs at the same time every morning pass right on queue. There are blossoms on the trees, tissue paper thin, pink. Colour has been dialled up. The grass is greener. When did this happen?

Every year, spring does this. You are wait and wait for it to appear and just when it feels like you are waiting for Godot, boom, everything lights up and comes alive. It’s here and it’s been here all along, you just weren’t paying attention. There is a change in the quality of the air, of the light. You can feel the warmth of the sun. You try to hold onto being present. It is so easy to tune out, move through space and time on autopilot. After winter turned inwards, your senses waken. You allow yourself to open to a new season.