So anyway, I said to the weather gods, “You’re not having me on again this time, are you? It’s absolutely definitely going to snow in Oxfordshire on Tuesday night?” And they said – through the medium of their high priests the weather forecasters – “Yup, you better believe it, Twisted.” And I said, “Because you know, I haven’t glimpsed snow in two long years and I’m getting twitchy.” And they said, “Well you will tonight. Heaps of the stuff. Enough for a really joyful, photo-heavy blog post.” So I said, in a voice laden with bitterness and pain, “Yeah, but we’ve been here before, haven’t we? All. My. Life. You promise snow overnight. This time I really believe you. I wake up the next morning, crazy with excitement, fling open the curtains and see… grey drizzle falling on green grass. Y’know, I’m not sure I can take that level of disappointment again.” At this, the weather gods mumbled something incomprehensible and looked shifty.
But you’ve got to give people and minor deities the benefit of the doubt, haven’t you?
So I went to bed, secure in the knowledge that this time, there really, really, really would be snow. I even told the Toddler Twinnage and got them all excited. And yesterday morning, I
crawled, shivering leapt from my bed, flung open the curtains, and saw…
I think you can probably guess what I saw.
I am no longer on speaking terms with the weather gods.
So that was it. I was done with winter and I was done with snow. Time to head out and look for signs that spring is somewhere round the corner. The poor Toddler Twinnage were bundled out of the door and off for a walk, grizzling all the way because what they really wanted was to stay home and throw Lego bricks at my head. But no, I insisted, We Are Going For A Walk. I think my children know when I am Speaking In Capital Letters, and their grizzles become resigned rather than outraged.
Walking is slow when two thirds of your party have to stop every couple of metres to dig little holes in the ground with a stick (and the other third is furiously sulking with the weather gods and muttering to herself). We strolled through the woods:-
And glimpsed the merest hints of spring-like bulb-related activity:-
And tiny buds hinting imminent growth amidst last autumn’s berries:-
There were catkins, too! Catkins are the sort of thing that primary school children draw pictures of for their projects and write uneven sentences about, and I think I still, at the age of 42, have a tiny bit of catkin-love left to give:-
We also met some chaps. First, there was this chap:-
…And then there was that chap:-
And thus, we reached the important conclusions that:-
(i) Spring might be just around the corner. You heard it here at the ‘Yarn first, folks. Always first for news and seasonal grumbling.
And (ii) Mummmmmeeeeeeeeeee, I’m hungreeeeeeeeee and I wanna go hoooooooooommmmmmmmme nowwwwwww.
Hmmm, I think this is the least knitting/crochet-related post I’ve ever written. I hope you don’t mind, just this once?