Oh March, what a queer month you have been! On the first day of the month I was hoping for Spring, yet on the last day of the month I awoke to find a heavy frost still on the ground. These last weeks have been a rather soul-destroying chilly hiatus. I have come to realise how we take for granted the turning of the seasons. It it is only when they do not come as expected that we understand how much they are missed.
“It is not yet Spring. Spring is being dreamed.” I came across this quotation from Edward Thomas in an excellent Guardian article about this year’s prolonged Winter and its detrimental effect, on wildlife and on us. It seems that this year, more than any other, there is a collective yearning for Spring to arrive.
Of course, family life continues as ever. I long for the day when we can empty the basket of woolly hats, gloves and scarves that currently stands by the back door, but having done several school runs in the snow of late, this seems a while off. It will also be a relief when we can shake off the seemingly endless rounds of bugs and illnesses. Every glimpse of blossom, patch of blue sky or ray of sunshine has been inordinately precious this month. Each carries with it the hope that Winter cannot last much longer, and when Spring does finally and conclusively arrive, there can be no doubt that it will be welcomed with open arms like never before!