This last six months have been the wettest we’ve experienced since Sun Rising opened in 2006. There have been puddles of water in the meadows for weeks, paths have grown muddy in places, and some areas are still pretty squelchy underfoot, but as I frown with anxiety I am also aware that climate change has brought crises to others on a totally different scale.
The snowdrops are now going over and spring is beckoning. Our little native daffodils, the Narcissus pseudonarcissus, are coming into their peak, blooming with a beautiful lemon yellow in the meadow and woodland. When the snow arrived the other day, they too seemed to frown, but today they are once again sweetly vibrant.
Who knows what the weather will be this year. Yesterday I sat in the cabin, a rich bright blue sky above, when hailstones began to fall. With another weather-inspired frown, I poked my head out to see a small but intensely dark cloud passing overhead. To be fair, such erratic events are not unusual for an English spring! The skylarks are beginning to fill the skies with melody, the dunnocks are up on the hedge tops singing their hearts out too, and the robins are scrapping: spring is coming.
Perhaps all we can hope for this year is that the dark clouds, both literal and metaphorical, pass over us quickly, and clear blue skies help to dry our drenched landscape just a little.