Not even the most ardently optimistic could possibly see signs of Spring just yet, but nevertheless, it did feel like on our walk today there was a little whisper of an idea of a promise that the dark and cold will recede. For a start, even though you'd be hard pressed to see any buds emerging, there was so much colour when we stopped to notice: rocks and tree trunks wrapped in acid green blankets of moss, the dark, bare bones of trees garlanded with opportunistic evergreens like ivy, baby beech trees (I think) with rust red leaves still dangling from their branches, asking to be shaken until they dance by small fists. As we drove through the gently sloped valley to and from Grizedale, through Oxen Park and Satterthwaite, yes we were spattered with rain but the light seemed...softer somehow and there were even a few of those eternal Spring optimists, the first lambs, let out in the fields here and there.
Yes, definitely reminders that the days are getting longer and that warmth will return, but for now warmth needs to come from a less celestial source and I can happily report that my feet are a whole lot warmer, as I finally finished the other sock...
