Monday 23 January 1995

Winter Floods and Signs of Spring

A damp grey day. The rain is gentling down in a fine mist with the result that from the edge of the bird table, bird bath, and each leaf and twig hangs suspended in glistening brightness a raindrop making today’s grey world shyly pretty.

Spring really does feel just around the corner; bright yellow aconites are clustered around the old upright apple tree and under other trees and bushes are snowdrops, brightly white and delicately dancing in the slightest breeze. The hellebores are also opening in so many colours and shades: one the darkest green with a maroon edge through to green with cream and white to every shade of pink imaginable. Daffodils are in bud, bluebells are pushing their rich green leaves up through the leaf-littered earth and the clematis are covered in soft fresh green shoots.

I am watching the ponds carefully now for the first sign of frogs gathering in the early evening dusk and listening for the urgent croaking of the males. Will we be especially lucky this year, I wonder, and for the first time ever have baby newts?
The blue tits and robins are already nesting, and the other birds will soon follow suit.

The fox comes nightly on his rounds and I try to leave him a special tidbit to encourage him to keep calling – perhaps an egg or a cheese sandwich or some such treat. Not just to help him on hungry nights, but because I love to watch him, if I’m lucky enough to look outside at the right time. Also foxes like to eat rats and as we live near a river he is welcome to any that may stray this way when the river floods! Although truth be told, he normally dines on our feathered friends who live on the river and lake opposite.

Our lane has been flooded for most of the last week and so as I look out of the back window I imagine we live by the sea. The fields are flooded and the wind whipping across the water causes a wave action which is very pleasing to watch. The fields at the back have always been a perfect delight, but never more so than this year – most nights the sunset over them is breathtakingly beautiful even when it is in quiet golds, silvers and turquoises. Although the fields are flooded now and attracting all manner of birds, including a flock of Canada geese and five beautiful swans, the fields were special before the flood came for another reason: the farmer put sheep there to graze every morning and I could look out on an idyllic flock of sheep. The sheep are gone now, just as well considering the flood, but they are not forgotten, and hopefully will be back again one day.

The blackbirds, and there are many of them about today, are singing a new song in the past few days. It is their springtime and the song is so joyful and happy, it makes one glad to be alive.