We noticed it at the start of April. Whilst walking beside the river, it was as if someone had taken a green pencil crayon and scribbled furiously amongst the trees.
One minute it was brown and dull, winter's leftover. The next it was verdant and bright. Spring is slowly creeping in.
Nothing else seemed to have changed. The hills are still muddy brown. The sky continues to yo-yo between blue and shades of grey. But the green, a sea of wild garlic [ail des ours] has been stealthily creeping in for weeks, sometimes beneath snow, to suddenly reveal itself.