than grey soft mornings where the rain only comes down incidently . . .

and every moment promises the cusp of spring -

the tulips are making preparations for their grand entrance, green and thick leaves that promise a bloom, and the trees swollen with buds that can hardly wait to come.

And inside quiet rain music, and a grey fuzzy sweater that is at least three sizes too big, and hot tea with honey and three children decorating for a birthday party for their pet butterfly.

Well, is there?