I took the title quote from Shelley's Ode to the West Wind. I know that's an Autumnal poem but it was going around and around in my head whilst I was walking through the woods today. The winter has been exceptionally mild until it finally turned last week and we got the snow and very low temperatures. Nature seems confused, with buds and blossoms, snow drops, daffodils and new shoots, alongside dried brambles, sodden bark, muddy paths and dead leaves. It reminded me of the poem by Shelley: His body may be in autumn but his mind is in winter and his heart with the Spring. The woods right now are a jumble of seasons.
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