Longing for spring, in February

On an afternoon walk, warm sun on my back, a breeze from the south in my face, I couldn't help longing to rush the season, to see the tangled branches of the forsythia covered with yellow blooms, to see new leaves and blossoms in the pansy bed under the oak tree. rising above the litter of blown twigs and frost-curled fallen leaves.

But this is all the camera wanted to show me: