Bluebells and bank holidays

I've just had the loveliest of bank holidays -- doing nothing out of the ordinary, yet all of it felt like a gift, because of the sunshine (walking the dog in the woods, eating ice-cream, seeing my husband, who has been away for weeks...) Anyway, as I was walking home with the dog, I realised that bluebells had flowered on our road -- not just in some of my neighbours' front gardens (where they grow year after year), but for the first time in the small patches of grass around the plane trees that line the street. There is something so unexpected -- and cheering -- about seeing wild flowers in the city; especially when seedlings take root, as if by magic, in cracks along the pavements or the crevices in brick walls.