"When Spring unfolds the beechen leaf"

[Birdland]

When Spring unfolds the beechen leaf, and
sap is in the bough;
When light is on the wild-wood stream,
and wind is on the brow;
When stride is long, and breath is deep, and
keen the mountain-air,
Come back to me! Come back to me! and
say my land is fair!

Well, the Scouring of Winter has just about ended, and the Sun is making Her way back from the Southlands.

So how will you make this a Tolkienish Spring? Are you tidying up the flower beds and planting taters by the light of the full moon? Throwing off your winter rags and dancing in the sunlight in front of an overthrown barrow? Or maybe walkin' in the willow-meads of Tasarinan?

Let's hear your thoughts as coirë turns to tuilë.