it’s all wrong, a muggy night in February, all wrong when winter feels like it’s been no more than a blink here…. maybe serves me right for living in a mild climate, although it didn’t used to be so……. back in the day (a phrase that still baffles me but use it with a certain ambivalence writing it anyway) winters were winters, clearly-defined, no dithering, humming and ha’ing, winter was winter was winter, but now….. it’s more like a Rorschach Test………. day by day each dawn is accumulating more and more bird song, the vociferous song thrush even penetrating double-glazing, not that I mind….. chaffinches are clattering, great tits sawing their seesaw songs, robins burble, dunnocks think about it, wrens refuse to be left out by exploding like tiny atom bombs from every which corner of the garden, even woodpeckers are drumming their call to arms, as in come into my arms and let’s make lurrrrrrve…. that’s woodpeckers for you, all wood and pecker…….. buds burst despite me telling them to stop being so premature, the first sign of a double-figure temperature and they think it’s time to don the tee shirt and light the barbie (as in barbecue… not the doll, that would be bizarre ritual!)…. but, but, but it’s still only February, it’s called winter for a reason and until we reach at least the equinox it should remain so…. feeling decidedly betrayed… and numb…. both…. mostly the latter…. I wake with the best intentions but as the hours progress I retreat shedding them in thaws of ice…… the jackdaws are busy, maybe they can lift my mood…..
© robert greig