Candy coloured houses. The clear blue sky of yesterday lunchtime gave me this gorgeous photo. These homes are on the beginning and end of my dog walks. The dogs pay no attention to the colours of the houses but are very particular about sniffing all the canine messages that are left on the low walls to the front gardens. Sunshine has really lifted this week out of the rigours of January. The Christmas selection tins of chocolates are beginning to look completely ravaged which is another sign of the seasons moving on in an encouraging way. I think I am unusual in loving the fruit creams, so for me a ravaged tin is one that only holds anything that isn’t a fruit cream. Either way sunshine and ravaged sweet tins are fine markers of the Northern Hemisphere turning towards springtime!
The middle of March is a curiously yellow kind of time. After a year of restrictions this March seems even yellower than usual. I checked back through my image file of the last few years and found some lovely yellows. Not just the obvious daffodils but all sorts of yelliw things to make me smile. I think it must be the quality of the light in March that makes yellow so vibrant. This commuting image is my first offering.
Even yellow underfoot seems brighter in March.
Yellow daffodils were the thing that seemed particularly vibrant yesterday. It must be a wrinkle or crinkle in my thinking though that makes this year seem especially bright because I have loads of lovely yellows from past years. I think previously I have not been quite so desperate to shake off winter and celebrate the coming of Spring. This is quite a statement as beyond Christmas I see no real value or purpose in Winter ever. So I’m always desperate to find signs of Spring. I just hadn’t realised until yesterday quite how pathetically desperate I was to leave winter behind me in 2021.
Sadly a yellow all-in-one covering a snuggly person is no longer on my signs of spring agenda.
But gorgeous yellow, empty beaches have a very positive effect on seeing the bright side.
Closer to home there is always a naughty dog to bring some yellow to the party. Even if there is no party!
If unseasonably sunny weather appears in any February, in Britain, the moment is known as Fools Spring. People usually flood the streets in lighter clothing and floral patterns. Sunshine on the weekend late in February 2021, after nearly a year of restricted Pandemic living was a recipe for quiet sartorial skittishness. The flood was replaced by a gentle trickle but along with floral patterns, shorts were worn and socks were abandoned so blue white toes could lay flacidly on the corky soles of Birkenstocks.
Colours took on a vivacity that lifted our spirits.
And even the moon put on a vivid show for the end of the day.
Foolish it might well have been but it felt like Spring was close.
Zooming and WhatsApp has filled my day as I’m sure it has or will for many people during these early pandemic days.Setting up new forms of communication for groups that until this week simply got together is vital to keep us socially and culturally connected. Whatsapp has been part of my portfolio of communication for a while , I’ve settled on that platform for a small 10 person book club.
Zoom is something I’ve only used once for an art course. I wasn’t so sure about it then. It worked much better today for an artist and makers organisation, we were all pretty much video conferencing virgins and once contact was established everyone seemed to relax into it.
Away from my device I’ve had a lovely long dog walk, once again dressed as the Lone Ranger.
My walk was pretty slow as Hugo and Lola needed to read the doggy news that they all constantly leave for each other. I took their sniffing/peeing stops as a cue to find something interesting to photograph .
The last one must mean something to someone, it’s clearly important as it’s been highlighted but to the uninitiated( me) it means nothing. The others of course signify the arrival of spring and need only innate knowledge to decode. I am very grateful that in the Northern Hemisphere this pandemic is hitting us in the natural world’s most optomistic season.
It’s been a stormy few days. Lichen laden branches have been blown down onto the newly emerged Snowdrops.
I had some help with the photography. Hugo and Lola love branches and were anxious to move them from the flowers as keenly as I wanted to keep them together.
Here is a link to an earlier Snowdrop post.