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What a difference a week and a half makes.

The buds on the liquidambar, brown and tightly bound before I left for a few days in Asia, have swelled and turned green, the first tiny fingers of leaves unfurling into the sunlight.

The dawn arrives noticeably earlier, dusk lingers that little bit longer. And when the sun's out, it shines with more warmth. Spring is just around the corner.

When it comes, some will complain of allergies. Others will dread the magpies, which for a few weeks will terrorise unfamiliar passers-by as they guard their nests.

I'll most likely sneeze and wheeze but the maggies won't be a problem.

I know them and they know me and we have forged a lasting spring truce. And when spring rolls towards summer they'll appear on the lawn with their querulous youngsters - their antics always a delight to watch, even if their nagging is discordant.

There is much to love about spring. The sense of renewal, of new life, of light.

For me, one of its greatest pleasures is the gradual liberation from clothes. Fear not. I have no plans to run down the street in my birthday suit. I'm talking about winter clothes stress.

The burdensome feeling of being weighed down by coats, sweaters, scarves and gloves. The exhaustion that comes with having to peel them off whenever you step into an overheated interior and put them all back on when you go outside again. The boredom with that go-to mushroom coloured, fleecy-lined hoodie you wear so often in winter you're tempted to set fire to it come spring.

As the deciduous trees cloak themselves in new leaves, us humans shed ours. Puffers are packed away, along with the big black overcoats which made us look like tethered dirigibles. Shorts replace slacks and T-shirts take the place of those torture implements otherwise known as business shirts.

If we're sensible enough not to be imprisoned by outdated professional dress codes and required to wear........

© Canberra Times