Melting moments (AKA Ephemera part 2)

I caught my first whiff of summer this morning. I can't say exactly what it smelled like, only that it was early and just starting to heat up, and the breeze carried past me one brief moment of unutterable fragrance. It faltered a second later, replaced by the old heavy smells coating the air: petrol fumes, sickly-sweet jasmine. Two years ago I had a similar moment – a group of us were in the city, I forget why – we walked and walked and as we came up the hill and over, and saw the harbour glittering below, the salty wind came gusting up to meet us, calling out holidays!

Other small things sighted this morning:
A schoolgirl from one of the stricter private schools, still a week and a half to go of winter term and sweltering in a heavy serge tartan tunic, long sleeves, sensible stockings and a silly hat.
An old man, his arms full of calla lilies, crossing the street to get to his back gate. There were more crisp, curling flowers heaped on the back seat of his car. Wednesday doesn't seem probable for a wedding – a funeral, perhaps?
Our own little peace lilies are still hiding in their furled casings, like miniature green umbrellas.
The alternating rain and sunshine has meant that the ivy being trained onto heart-shaped trellises for my sister's wedding over a year away is finally starting to get thick and glossy.
The tree in front of our house is skeletal still, spindly and bare, the last one on the street to remain so.
Bare feet on the paving stones are only advisable before 11am, and again after 3, unless you like burnt soles.