A gray chilly day, gray dirty slush on the pavement, gray skies and serious men in gray gabardine overcoats with gray newspaper cones – in their hand, under arm or even sticking out of a handbag. And confined in each of those cones are hundreds of small suns.

This is how I remember 8^th of March, an International Women’s Day, from my childhood. Of course, there were other early spring flowers – tulips and daffodils (back then we didn’t have “evergreen” roses yet) – but mimosa* was strongly associated with this holiday (a combination of Mother’s Day and St. Valentine’s Day). Mimosa was such a sunny and happy flower that you couldn’t help feeling Spring in the air even though it was still cold and unpleasant outside.

It’s almost never cold where I live now; all seasons’ boundaries are blurred and I gladly swapped not so “international,” as I found out, holiday for a more romantic, in my view, local one. But I still smile and my heart fills with joy whenever I see these bright golden constellations on a filigree of silvery leaves.

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