A brief post to record a memorable weekend. Saturday saw some warmth (perhaps 12 degrees C), sunshine, light SW winds and at last the garden came alive with honey bees and other insects. Though I’ve still to record the first bumblebee of the year.

Crocuses began to emerge in real numbers in the upper hay meadow from all the saved and scattered seed in recent years. Hinting at possibly fabulous vistas in years ahead. And all the honey bee colonies were working flat out to bring in pollen and nectar after such a poor month so far. The birds began to sing again. It was indeed a delight and joy after quite a dreary winter.

And then… within 13 hours, after another massive frog spawning event in the pond, the rain began and by the end of Sunday, nearly 60 mm had fallen.

And of such intensity that the lower meadow was awash in a way I’ve rarely (never?) noticed before, with the spate stream flooding as shown for hours on end, not the more usual hour or so. Trunks and huge stones were shifted with the water’s violence. All of which kept me indoors for most of the day, after a pre-emptive early morning 90 minute session getting soaked whilst clearing out the critical track rain run-off channels and culvert entrance in anticipation of this “amber” rain event.

With nothing better to do, than stitch together another video, which is one way of recording this special weather-determined 24 hours..

The acrostic poem developed the following morning as I awoke with ‘Fickle February’, sluicing through my mind.

Fickle February 

Fickle February charms, chides, shows

Each Virgin lantern hangs: cold, closed.

Blue skies are fleeting, frogs are spent

Rain-lashed Crocus, spears all bent.

Until bold sun returns. And found,

Arcs low, soon warms such sodden ground.

Reminds brave bees there’s work to do

Yet ‘morrow’s deluge curbs them too.

24/02/2025