It was one of those winter days that suddenly dream of spring, when the sky is blue and soft and clear, and the wind has dropped its voice and whispers instead of screaming, and the sun is out and the trees look surprised, and over everything there is the faintest, palest tint of green.
Shirley Jackson (2013). “Come Along with Me: Classic Short Stories and an Unfinished Novel”, p.6, Penguin