Spring raised it's head briefly yesterday, uncurled from the frozen brown earth to take a breath of sunshine, then disappeared again today under the coverlet of clouds.
The birds are silent today, yesterday's enthusiasm dampened by grey skies and chilly air. But there are small white buds on the magnolia, and the primroses are struggling to open. Snowdrops, white and green against black, hard earth, are trembling in the rush of wind caused by the speeding, dirty busses that trammel the brittle tarmac.
Spring is on its way, reluctantly. But we are eager with anticipation, and optimism. The slightest bit of blue sky brings a smile, the instant of sunshine warms more than its thin heat radiates.
On the train, in the evenings, the sky is a riot of reds. Scudding clouds are daubed with vibrant colours, and the sunsets cast dramatic silhouettes of bare trees, farm buildings and scrubby fields that are slowly, slowly challenging the winter to turn green.
And this morning, as I came in on the train, into the city, the arms of a huge yellow spider clawed their way from the mound of earth that is the rebuilding of CB1. Three diggers looked like arachnid limbs, and the devastation surrounding their industry is like another spring - the bare field soon to sprout the concrete shoots of new buildings.
Change is a constant, and the cycle of the seasons and the cycle of development is as unstoppable as each sunrise. Though some days start grey, there will be sunshine one day. Remember that the sun is coming, that the wreck of land will soon be something new and shining, that the broken earth will soon blossom. It's hard to keep a positive attitude sometimes, but all we have to do is look around. And remember.