Too early

The Reserve takes a good half hour to walk. Once we pass the sport center with its tennis courts and restaurant, the paths wander through fields for as far as the eye can see.

My husband and I take our dog Sherlock there regularly. We know different landmarks such as the beaver damn. When we come to it, we see it has a huge hole in the middle and we wonder where the beavers have gone.

Half way through the Reserve is a bridge leading to the ruin of a 12th century castle/fortress that is said to be haunted when the moon is full at midnight. We've never checked it out although we have considered it. Our bed is too comfortable.

The sky was an unreal blue, more like those in Southern France which we had just left. Sherlock ran back and forth covering at least ten times the space we did. He adores walking running, sniffing here. 

His imitation of a rabbit could not have been better as he crossed the bridge over what once must have been a moat and ran up the hill to the castle.

The Reserve is a large area. We came across one -- one dandelion. One, only one.

It is too early for dandelions.

Unlike most people I love these hardy little yellow flowers. Anything that pretty shouldn't be called weeds. They are cheerful. Their leaves make a good salad. The Café du Soleil in Petit Saconnex serves one in season.

But this isn't the season for dandelions. Is it global warming, or did this one brave dandelion offer to do reconnaissance for others?

When we were leaving France to spend the rest of the winter and part of the spring at our home in Geneva, the mimosa was already in bloom.

I love it when the countryside turns to sunshine from trees and trees of mimosa trying to out shine the sun.

Except.

Except

Except mimosa should not bloom until February. It should not be celebrating the new year.

Compared to the fires in Australia, early blooming flowers are not catastrophic. Yet a pleasant symptom of climate change, does not mitigate what our leaders are still ignoring.