February, although a short month, always seems endless to me.
March sounds so much more promising already.
Spring is arriving, slowly, slowly.
The first seas of buds and flowers are covering corners in the park. The sun is out, but the wind is still cold, mornings are frosty, but evenings longer.
On a weekend walk we collected a few little treasures.
Together with some lengths of embroidery cotton, a little mobile is cheering our window now, while we wait for March to unfold.