Smiler, out and pie.

1. Alec wakes from his post-mid-morning-feed stupor and gives me a selection of wide, gummy smiles.

2. A new draught excluder keeps out prying fingers of cold air.

3. This round steak and stout pie is as cheerful as the sun on a day that promises fine weather.

Sunday morning, warming up and tracking.

1. Nick takes me out for breakfast -- at 10am the streets are Sunday silent and the air is so cold and still that it feels as if we are watching the world through glass.

2. Hot chocolate with a peak of foam on top and flecks of chocolate melting into it.

3. He calls down from the attic: "Darling wife, I can track our pizza on-line!"

Blessed cool, Prosecco and air aces.

1. The woods. The shady side of the street. Our flat. Very much welcome on a hot day.

2. She says: "Thanks for telling me this Prosecco is sweeter than Champagne. I wouldn't have tried it otherwise."

3. Daredevil swifts shriek over our hill. They fall, now skyward, now earthward. Always falling.

Bees, in the sun and compost bin.

1. Bees bob against the window. Bok. Bok. Bok.

2. At lunchtime, to stretch out my legs in the sun and read for a while.

3. On a hot day, a week before it will be emptied, the compost bin smells of conifer branches.

Sausages, mint and last one in.

I spotted today that Sprite is marking five years of 3BTing, which made me feel unaccountably proud of this little idea.

1. A fat, squashy package of sausages wrapped in paper.

2. A few leaves of mint in the potato water.

3. Quite late at night, to wriggle into bed next to my husband.

What's so funny, sign of spring and a whole lot of dodgy dealing.

1. I can hear a baby laughing and laughing at her parents bringing in their washing.

2. Commuters walking home in their shirt sleeves.

3. We stroll down to Trinity to watch Micmacs (and eat ice cream). It's a funny, dark little film about a man, aided by his freaky friends, getting revenge on the arms dealers that ruined his life.

So below, drying out and work harder.

1. Spring flowers are fallen stars.

2. crick-crack crick crick-crack. Pine cones are opening in the hot bright air.

3. A crow watches the collared doves. A mean boss on a warm Friday afternoon.

Waiting, it's over and I'm having a bath.

I've just discovered Tangible Joy has been 3BTing. I like her rebellion against Starbucksification; and also her appreciation for her job.

1.  In the doctor's waiting room, two small boys (with what looks like the last of chickenpox) wait with their mother. One of them shows off his counting (he does very well, but then goes straight from 29 to 99) and the other plays "give me five... you're too slow" with his mum. He tries to distract her by telling her there's a spider on the ceiling. They make me smile; and I catch the eye of another lady who is also smiling.

2. I go for a smear test -- the nurse is kind and chatty, and it's over so quickly that I hardly realise it's happened.

3. The washing up is done, and Nick has baseball to watch. I squeeze one third of a bottle of shower gel into the bath and make myself some bubbles to hide under while I read.

No coat, everybody out and baked potato.

The Three Beautiful Things podcast is up -- with some bonus springtime items.

I've been getting some really lovely comments lately -- I very much enjoyed yesterday's crop, particularly Daisy May's own list of beautiful things, and Louisa's description of spring round her way. Never underestimate the power of a kind word about 3BT to make my day!

1. To go out in the first days of spring wearing a coat, and find myself damp and overheated when I get home. The second time I go out, I leave the coat behind. I am serious and workmanlike on the outside, but inside I'm whooping with joy.

2. It's so good to see people strolling around -- we are coming out now the weather is warmer. One man in a sky blue jumper looks a bit dazed, as if he'd forgotten over winter how much world there was. I see him pause at the top of the road and examine the pole of a traffic sign.

3. To cut through the crisp skin of a baked potato -- the hot insides are soft and creamy and savoury.

First warmth, the opportunity and she's reading.

1. For the first time this year, it's warm enough to walk around the flat in bare feet in the early morning.

2. We grab a cup of coffee and a sit in the sun -- the home-worker and the mother with a new baby.

3. Catherine and I talk on the phone. She says that my goddaughter is reading now: "You know the little letter you wrote in her birthday card? She read most of that." Ellie has been identifying letters since she was tiny, so I've always taken care to print clearly in her cards so she can do just that -- but to hear that she's reading tickled me very much.

Storing up sunshine, new bread and windowsills.

1. It's a sunny day, with bright, clean air. We make the most of the light -- the forecast is heavy rain for the rest of the week.

2. I like to wrap a loaf of new bread (still warm) in a tea towel and carry it round to a friend's house.

3. Katie's new kitchen windowsill is wide enough for a tray of seeds -- she's looking after it for her mother-in-law.

The apple, off the snow and an evening with friends.

Was talking about bird footprints in the snow the other day, and look, Lucille has put some pictures on her blog, Useful or Beautiful.

1.How gratifying to see the apple I put out for the birds pecked into a mass of peaks and chasms.

2. It's such a relief to come off compacted and frozen snow, where I have been sliding and sinking by turns, and on to a gritted road.

3. Coming into a warm, bright house where there will be an evening of pizza and gaming.

The chore, snow's back and winter duvet.

1. Nick goes to the supermarket so I don't have to.


2. While we were watching a documentary on Russian art, the snow returned, silently covering the world an inch deep. We grumble about the inconvenience, but go outside to make footprints in the drive and to marvel at the soft cold. It's a bit like an ex who has hurt you in the past -- but they are so cute and charming that you are always pleased to run into them.

3. We remember that we haven't yet put the winter duvet on the bed. So we do, and it's much cosier now -- before, I just couldn't get warm by myself. I inherited this duvet from my grandmother. Whenever we put it on the bed, I think of her.

Rain in the sun,cold hands and put them away.

The husband of a friend was commissioned to write a song for The British Humanist Association's choir. It's called Gathering Round the Fire, and it's about how at this dark time of year we crave the warmth of human contact. I think it's rather a pleasing sentiment.

(The link is to the MP3 on Amazon -- I get a small commission if you choose to download it that way. It is available on iTunes, too, if that's more your thing.)

1. It's a bright day, so I take a basket of damp washing out to the line. But the air is full of cold needles and I am annoyed at having to take it all inside and hang it up again. Then I see sparks of sun-gilded rain and can't help but forgive the weather.

2. A hot mug of tea makes my cold hands tingle.

3. I never feel comfortable when the best wine glasses are by the sink. I like to wash them, dry and polish them and put them away.

First photo, squirrel and staying warm.

1. I wake in the night and I am cold. I turn over and can feel waves of warmth rolling off Nick as he sleeps.

2. I actually gasp as I read the text message. It's a subject line and a 12-week scan picture.

3. A squirrel undulates across the lawn. It looks like a mmmmm handwriting exercise.

Quiet, nap and pie.

1. The road is quiet for a moment, and I hear the t-t-t-t of a passing cyclist who is meandering slowly along as if he doesn't have anywhere particular to go.

2. I'm cold and sleepy, so I bundle myself up in the duvet and take an afternoon nap.

3. I like to have a second slice of banoffee pie.

Melting, out of my hands and the day I caught the train.

1. It is so hot that my bright red ice lolly is dripping down my hand.

2. Dropping a job application into the letter box -- after all that polishing and refining, what a relief to have it immutable and out of my hands.

3. I was disorganised and now I am going to miss my train -- but I run anyway, and find it's three minutes late.

Dress accordingly, work and spotlight.

1. Putting on warm weather clothes after a few chilly days.

2. I find a job ad that piques my interest -- it's part-time, and editorial, working on interesting subject matter for an amazing organisation.

3. Shade falls through the leaves in smudges and splotches. A brown butterfly sits for a moment on a splash of sunlight and is illuminated.

Enjoying the sun, ice cream and geisha.

1. A middle-aged man, the peeling sun-red skin of his torso bare, sits with his wife on a park bench. He's drinking a can of larger, and he fills the space around them with tinny music from a small radio.

2. A little girl with corn blonde hair and a thick ring of ice cream round her mouth.

3. We watch Memoirs of a Geisha. The darkness and the icy rain storm of the start are driven away by one act of kindess.

Book, bubbles and sofa.

1. I am kicked out of bed for being wriggly, and decide that what I really want to do in the quiet hours before Nick wakes up is not write blog, diary or story, but finish The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society because love is clearly in the air, but so far, none of the characters have realised.

2. The last piece of bath fizzer drags a tail of tiny bubbles through the foam on the surface of the water.

3. I like to sit on the old long sofa from old flat and talk with Katie until my problems are unravelled.