There is a particular moment in this area of the world when the wind turns, shifting from the narrow, sharp sting of snow-chilled mountain air to the softer, wider, warmer breezes skirting the meadows and filtering through the forests – and even as I walk now among cherry trees exploding in pink, I watch and I wait for that delicate change. An early stop to work gave me the opportunity to take tea by the window and process through the mundane and profound events that have piled up on me.