“Summer starts on June 21st, three months after the start of Spring on March 21st.”
“Hang on, that can’t be right; the 24th is midsummer day, at that rate the summer only lasts six days. Oh…… Well, you might be right.”
“Look at that out there: that’s winter.”
This last being Little S’s contribution to a recent debate in our house about Summer and it’s absence.
After the end of Whit week we had a couple of days of really ferocious weather; heavy rain and fierce winds. Of course, some people say that there’s no such thing as bad weather: only weather. By the end of the second day, when the rain had eased considerably, I really wanted to get out, at least for a short walk.
“I’d go to Eaves Wood,” TBH advised.
She had a point, the contrast there between the relative shelter and calm of the woodland floor and the roar of the wind in the treetops is staggering; and it’s quite comforting to listen to the gales from the comfort of a cosseted spot in the woods. But I wanted to really immerse myself in the storm, so I staggered across the Lots, which were strewn with leaves and small branches.
I don’t know whether the photos convey it, but although the gales had already subsided somewhat since the previous day, it was still wild and gusty.
Just in case you were thinking that it’s all sunshine and butterflies!