A small but significant thing I miss: chatting with the folks who work at the local co-op. Strange as it seems, those brief interactions with relative strangers—talking about the weather, mostly—were an important part of my day-to-day life.
Yes, folks. I am an extrovert. Guilty as charged. A friend on facebook suggested that the time for misanthropic introverts has come. Great, I’ll just bring out my inner misanthropic introvert then. Oh, wait, I haven’t got one of those!
So I am here, chatting to the blogosphere—all you relative strangers—about the weather. That’s right: I plan on posting a ‘small talk’ blog once a week, to prevent myself going mad from the lack of human interaction. I propose to share with you some of the signs of spring that I have seen on my daily walks. (Also essential for my sanity; I do maintain the requisite distance from any walkers I see.) In part, I want to pay attention to spring for deeper, more theological and spiritual reasons. But mostly, I just want to talk about the weather.
This week in the local nature reserve:
I am no expert, so feel free to correct me (or fill in the blanks) here. From top left: blossoms on the hawthorn tree, daffodils, frogspawn. (I have been checking almost every day to see whether the tadpoles have emerged.) Bottom row, from left: a pheasant, willow blossoms on the path, candelabra primroses and narcissus.
If I were more technologically astute, I’d include some bird song. Here again, I am definitely no expert. Our woods are full of birds. I’ve seen blue tits and long-tailed tits, great tits and a bullfinch, all the usual suspects (magpies, blackbirds, pigeons of all sorts, crows, and robins), plus a jay and a load of others I’ve yet to identify.
Most of the week was spring-like: sunny and almost warm (I’m from Southern California, so what passes for ‘warm’ here doesn’t impress me). Today, though, I wore my big coat, and I needed it when the wind got up and closed the gaps in the clouds overhead, and the rain began. (Best not to think about the laundry I left on the line—ever the optimist!) I wasn’t sorry I’d ventured out, but I was glad to have the appropriate attire! Now, as I write, the sun has emerged again and I see blue sky between the clouds.
Spring is coming, and it seems completely unaware of the predicament we humans are in. The flowers are blooming and so are the trees, the lambs have been born and the birds are nesting. And for all these signs of spring, I am grateful.