After the strange heat of February came stormy March, with windy spell running into windy spell such that it seemed, as I’ve always liked to say, that we were living at sea. A good reminder that, as inhabitants of an island perched on the edge of Atlantic, we pretty much do. Alas that of late it feels like an end-of-era Atlantis, an island that is gradually sinking. The good ship SS Great Britain is holed below the waterline and foundering, not so iron-hulled and sturdy as her more noisy cheerleaders would have us believe.
Just as the political storm gathers full strength, the real winds have died down and given way to a gloriously temperate spring. Mild, not hot; cool breeze, warm sun and air with a delicious, fresh-laundered scent. The air is rich with the fruity song of blackbirds, especially in the early evening. Their song always strikes me as so beautifully homely. Woodlarks or nightingales may have wilder toned or more showy repertoires, respectively, but they’re birds of special habitats these days, not part of the everyday nature that soundtracks our lives. Conservation action targets the rare, but arguably we need blackbirds more. That may be one reason the recent epidemic of netted hedges and trees has stirred up such strong emotions.
This afternoon I’ve heeded the blackbirds’ song and stayed here in our garden. I mowed those parts of the lawn that I keep short, navigating round some blooming celandines. Sowed vegetables, herbs and wildflowers. Trimmed some ivy and dead stems round the edges, pausing for a few minutes here and there to watch the small creatures disturbed by my gardening – woodlice, yellow ants, springtails, millipedes. Watching life in miniature is as effective a form of meditation as I’ve ever known, one I have probably practiced without knowing it since I was a child. I don’t often enough. When everything in the world seems to be changing, it can feel like the only appropriate response is to take a view, to move, to act. Sometimes, it’s better just to sit under the tree where the blackbird sings, and be.