And, to celebrate life this winter weekend, a poem by one of my favorite recent Scottish writers, Iain Crichton Smith, from the Scotsman website last week (http://news.scotsman.com/entertainment/Poem-of-the-Week-Iain.4929233.jp). Entitled "Early Spring," it brings tears to my eyes as I read it:The crocuses are out in January
in their green and purple
and I have seen the gorse as well.
The seasons do not know themselves,
they are delirious with promise.
They stay awake with excitement instead of sleeping
as I did in my first job
when I was bringing learning to the young.
See, even the clouds are a different colour
they too are purple
they too have this early freshness.
Last night I was reading of an old man
who scouring among graves would find coffin wood
from which he would make violins.
