I woke up to complete darkness at 7am today, caused by cloud so low it seemed to be covering the house. It is raining heavily, feels cold at only 12C, and it’s dark enough inside the house to require lights on at 9:44am.
It was necessary to check the calendar to confirm it was the 16th of May, and not the 16th of January.
Maybe I should just go back to bed…
Thinking back to my childhood, it feels as if the seasons were so clealy defined back then.
Autumn was a time of fallen leaves in the parks of London. Rushing through them to hear them crackling underfoot. Cold, clear days when I started to wear my duffel-coat again, and woolen gloves on my hands.
Looking through my mum’s mail-order catalogue, in anticipation of Chistmas gifts to come in Winter.
Chestnuts fallen from trees were collected and dried. Soaked in vinegar or baked lightly in the oven, to use them on strings for a game of Conkers in the school playground. Fierce rivalries, and that delight once you had a ‘Sixer’ that had defeated other conkers.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Conkers
Cold and dark evenings in front of a coal fire, my bed being warmed in advance by a rubber hot water bottle that was still too hot to touch with my feet once I got under the covers.
Walking to school in morning fog, then standing against the Victorian radiators to get warm before going into Assembly.
Firework Night (also called Guy Fawkes’ Night) on the 5th of November, a British tradition. Collecting money to buy fireworks by stuffing old clothes to make a dummy called a Guy, standing on corners asking adults “Penny for the Guy please”. Then the Guy burned on the top of a large bonfire.
(No Halloween then of course)
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Guy_Fawkes_Night
The smell in the air the day after the 5th. Smoke lingering, and the debris of firework rockets all over the streets.
What of the memories of this year, Autumn 2023?
Rain.
No surprise that the unseasonal weather is dominating my thoughts once again. The most miserable July for many years, with rain most days, and temperatures struggling to get past March levels. Yesterday was dark all day, raining all day, and I actually felt cold! We joke here about English summers being bad, but this year is not a joke at all.
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Ollie is moulting like there’s no tomorrow. His fur is everywhere, and coming out in clumps. I thought the cooler weather would slow that down, but no. And his ear problem refuses to go away, meaning that I have to squirt the ear-wash into his ears more frequently to try to break down the solid wax deposits. When he sees me take the bottle down from the shelf, he looks so sad and upset, I feel like a criminal even though I am only trying to help him.
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We have our grandson coming later today, to sleep over until Tuesday evening. With the weather set to remain dismal, we will have to take him somewhere to do some indoor activities, and perhaps to eat out at a ‘family’ restaurant he always enjoys going to. The energy levels of an 8 year-old always take their toll on us after.
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I am finding it hard to get that enthusiastic about things at the moment. Bleak weather in high summer doesn’t help with the prospect of the long winter we know will arrive in late October. To be honest, 2023 will be going on the list as one of my least favourite years.
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Wherever you are, I hope you are having a good Sunday, and in better weather.
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After the mini heatwave broke down overnight on Sunday, the predicted cool down arrived yesterday with a drop of 10C (50 degrees F). From almost 31C to 21C in the space of a few hours, thanks to a change in wind direction.
That meant a very pleasant walk with Ollie, and encountering more people with their dogs over on Beetley Meadows. Ollie was back to a reasonable walking speed, and only needed one short dip in the river for a drink. Even an afternoon increase to 23C still felt relatively Spring-like after last week’s sultry heat and humidity.
Today has started out cloudy, and struggling to exceed 18C. I am not complaining, as I had a great night’s sleep in the cooler temperatures. We also have no rain forecast, and the maximum temeperature this week is set to be below 25C. No fans are required, and open windows are letting in fresh-feeling air.
To complain about hot weather is a very English thing, I know. But we are not prepared for extremes of heat in this country, we are prepared for 7-8 months of Winter as a rule.
Even then, harsh winters always catch us out, so it seems we can rarely win, whatever the season.
Living in the countryside has meant I tend to obsess about weather. I hardly gave it a thought when I lived in London.
It already felt warm when I woke up this morning, and the blue skies enhanced my mood before I had my first cup of tea.
By the time I took Ollie for his walk, the weather conditions were so perfect, it was a day I would like to save and repeat for the rest of my life.
15C, (60F) but with real warmth from the sunshine. A breeze that felt fresh and clean, but not strong enough to move plants or grasses around.
The birds were singing like a choir, and insects were buzzing in the air.
It was warm enough for shorts, but I wasn’t wearing them as I had decided it was still too early. My mistake.
Ollie could feel the warmth, and was soon in the river for a drink and a cool down. But he had the same sense of the day as me, so we headed across to Hoe Rough to double the length of the walk.
On the path leading to the new footbridge, I was startled to see two young Adders, stretched out in the rays of sunshine. It is very early to see those, and they do not normally appear when the temperature is below 25C.
As they are a poisonous snake, I took a wide route around them, making sure that Ollie didn’t notice them. A bite from one of them could kill my loyal old dog.
After the walk, I made my usual Monday ‘Big Shop’ trip to the supermarket. The inside of the car was hot, and I drove the four miles with the windows down, enjoying the feeling of warm air coming in.
So my conclusion is that today was the perfect Spring day. A day that makes you feel good to be alive and living in the countryside.
For so long now, it has been getting dark by 3:30 in the afternoon, and pitch black an hour later. Almost sixteen hours of every day, spent in darkness.
Then last night as I was cooking dinner, I had to pop out to the spare fridge in the garden shed to get something.
It was 6:01 pm, according to the clock on the microwave, and it was still light, with the sun not completely set to my left. The sky glowed pink in the far distance, and I could clearly see to the end of the garden
Now that is definitely a sign that Spring is just around the corner.
Yesterday morning, as I was making tea in the kitchen, I could hear loud cheeping coming from the direction of the Oak tree in the back garden. I leaned across the sink to look out of the window, and saw a colourful Blue Tit fly across from the fence and land on the nest-box that is fixed to the tree. It was bobbing its head in and out of the hole, before flying off again.
Ever since we have lived here, we have had Blue Tits using the nest-box every Spring, but never before in late December.
I can only conclude that the birds are confused by the change in the weather brought about by global warming.
Now I am hoping that the chicks can survive a potentially harsh Winter.
It is only the second of October. At this time of year, I am usually still wearing shorts, have the windows wide open, and wouldn’t dream of putting on the central heating.
But this October has begun more like winter than autumn, and I woke up feeling cold this morning.
After wrapping up well, I still didn’t feel right, and sitting at the PC earlier today I could feel the cold creeping into me.
At 11 am, I surrendered to the inevitable, and put the heating thermostat up to 20 C.
If it carries on like this, it is going to feel like a long winter indeed.
Summers in England cannot be guaranteed. Ask anyone who lives here.
But this summer has been the worst for a long time, especially in the East of England where I live, which has languished under gloomy cloud cover for what seems like months. Yesterday, It was dark while I was making breakfast, and the sun hadn’t appeared by the time I took Ollie out for his walk, at 1:40pm.
The temperature was only 16C (60F) and it was unusually windy for August too.
Since he had his Vet treatments on Wednesday, Ollie has improved immensely. He was pleased to get out over to Beetley Meadows, and it wasn’t too long before he was running into the river for a refreshing drink. As we walked around the riverside path after, the shoulder high nettles were on the move. Stirred by the wind, they seemed to be reaching out to others across the path, in the hope of stinging me as I passed by.
Like some kind of anchored monster, their tendrils waved in the breeze, almost as if they sensed my arrival. I had to weave in and out of the extended nettle heads, stopping occasionally to bash down some of the most impassable ones with my trusty dog-walking stick.
Oblivious as ever, Ollie trotted on, sniffing and marking. But he had no canine companions yesterday. Local dog-walkers were either away on holiday, or not willing to chance the possibility of rain.
When that rain arrived, it was nothing to speak of. Little more than tangible moisture in the air, followed by a few very determined individual drops that had escaped the heavy clouds overhead. Not even enough to wet my uncovered head.
After less than ninety minutes, Ollie’s enthusiasm waned, and I sensed he was preferring the idea of his dinner, to more walking. So we headed out of the alley at the far end of Beetley Meadows, with Ollie sniffing and marking the spots he had missed earlier.
I was left reflecting that it hadn’t felt much like a late-August dog walk. More like late March.
I am trying to think if I ever saw wasps this early in the year. Those stinging insect pests are a summer regular, annoyingly buzzing around drinks and food during hot weather, or hovering around overstuffed litter bins at coastal resorts.
It has been sunny this week, but not exactly warm, let alone hot. Yet the wasps have arrived many months too early. They have been in the kitchen, inside the shed, and buzzing noisily around partially-opened windows.
Naturally, they get no mercy from me. Immediate application of the plastic fly swat has already dealt with some of them, and it has been left to hand for any further waspish intruders.
Let’s hope the Murder Hornets have not woken up too, and are making their way to Beetley.
beetleypete 