There's quite a way to go, yet. Snow and hard-packed ice are yet to melt on the balance of our front lawn, although the micro-climate in our backyard has succeeded in melting the snow there. And in the various little gardens I can see that the crocuses are ready to bloom yellow and purple, and the tulips are spearing their way through the warming soil; the grape hyacinths whose stubborn spears lay under winter snow are preparing to raise their flowerheads. Perhaps in another two weeks all of the bulbs will have clarified their intention to brighten the emerging spring gardens.

At the beginning of March I started once again the ritual of collecting and crushing eggshells so I would have the ammunition I need to sprinkle around the emerging plantain lilies of which I have so many, since they are one of my most favourite garden presences, the eggshells performing the commendable task of keeping snails off the vulnerable hosta leaves and munching them most unattractively.

And several weeks ago I began spraying the collected begonia bulbs in their wood crates stored overwinter in the basement to persuade them that it's time to awaken from their sleep and send out shoots so that when I take them out to the gardens for re-planting and potting in various clay garden pots in May they will have begun their ascent into brilliant flowering status.

Yesterday was a lovely sunny and mild day, perfect for removing the snow cones from atop the roses, releasing them to the direct warm encouragement of the sun in preparation for eventual June flowering. And several days earlier we had seen our first robins; no doubt they arrived even earlier and had had to cope with the effect of that April snowstorm on Friday which brought fierce winds and flying sleet and snow back to our spring-minded landscape.

Yesterday was a brilliant, mild and sunny day in Boston as well, absolutely perfect for their annual marathon. Which ended in so spectacularly a dreadful disaster.