Warm yellow sun, perfect for pictures, on every surface lucky enough to be facing the right way.

A slender plant, perhaps a bush, still stripped bare of its leaves by winter, growing from the crevice between two rocks. Playing dead, it continues to stretch upwards towards a blue sky.

A basketball abandoned by a playground. Upon inspection, it is soft and made of foam. A convincing illusion.

Walking up a steep hill, I notice that the grass on one side is polka-dotted with yellow coltsfoot flowers. Picking them for my afternoon tea, my shoes crunch over dead dried plants, bent over on the ground. Rocks jut out here and there.

Turning up our street: A small black and white dog hesitates on a porch, at the top of a flight of stairs. It seems to want to go down onto the grass but is perhaps held back by an invisible hand. Its owners are sitting on chairs that face each other on the porch. Snatches of their conversation drift down, “Radiation, everyday for the next two weeks. After that…” As I continue up the sidewalk, their words are first muffled by the bushes and the wind, then are entirely lost.

In the yard, a splash of crocuses greet me, violent colours celebrating spring. Their faces open greedily towards the sun. Drinking, drinking the golden light.