Whilst I was recovering from the flu, Spring arrived on the island.
This hill covered with clover in bloom is the first sign. (The red bits in the middle are wild geranium.) In the East, to my best remembrance, it's crocus and forsythia that mark the approaching end of Winter. Here it's clover.
And all the way along, whenever there was cactus clinging to the steepest and driest parts of the hill, these purple blossoms waved in the wind on their tall, thin stems. They're not part of the cactus; just seem to prefer the same environment.