Spring

Huw Williams | 14:35, Sunday 13 April 2014 | Turin, Italy 

Spring is such an appropriate name for the season, isn't it? As my tram stopped at traffic lights this morning, I glanced down and to my left my through the window, and there, bursting through the overgrown verge besides the track, were a shock of bouncing, bopping wild flowers, resplendent in their purples, whites and yellows, springing up in the grime.

Each morning I take a look at the street below our apartment when I open the shutters, the Torinese are slowly shedding their winter feathers. There are still plenty of scarves on show but not so many shiny puffer jackets donned to protect against the malignant cold. Perhaps they are glad to be rid of the weight, but there is certainly more of a spring in the step of these commuters than there was a month ago.

Yes, spring has sprung alright and suddenly life somehow seems just that little bit more positive. Not long ago, I would shut the office up at the end of the afternoon and was already dark; now as I do so, there is the prospect of another couple of hours of evening sunshine to enjoy. We could even sit and sip tea on the balcony. And our thoughts begin to turn to Summer and holidays. All of a sudden everyday hopes spring up in the unlikeliest of places.

And that's an interesting thought as we edge closer to Easter week. We are about to remember especially the events leading up to Jesus death on the cross - the betrayal of one friend, the denial of another, the desertion of the others. A mockery of a trial and an excruciatingly painful death, separated from the eternal love of his Father. And yet, and yet... hope most certainly does spring up in the unlikeliest of places.