Ivy leaves on a wall reflect sunlight as though they have been varnished.
The sun shines on magnolia buds on the verge of opening. Profiled against a bank of dark clouds, the buds look like pink candle flames.
An elderly man whom I sometimes meet in the Grove, in the face of an icy wind this afternoon, says: "My mother used to tell me never to wear a scarf. When you take it off , she'd say, you'll feel the cold."