This time last year it was hot. Spring-like, even. We would see the sun, and rain was a rare occurence. This time last year we bluebell watched with sunhats.
Without exageration I think it has been four whole weeks since we had one day of sun. We catch it in patches. It lasts hours if we are lucky, and although we need the rain, desperately so, I still don’t seem to have anymore gratitude left for it anymore. It’s time Someone called off the dogs, ya know??
As such, bluebell watching this year was an altogether different experience than years gone by. We were wrapped up warmly. We saw no butterflies. We didn’t see one thing basking… instead it was perfect bug finding weather. And bugs we did find… we watched in awe the amount of snails that have made their way up the tree trunks into the canopy to escape the water. I swear I heard the sound of a little saw as a snail ark was being made…
We found the lone white bluebell. We found bugs that we didn’t have a name for. We found primroses. We heard the first cuckoo of the year, yes we did. And we knew it was spring.
We knew, but didn’t feel, it was spring.
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