The thaw has arrived and with a vengeance.
Yesterday we were still completely white over, though the snow was softer and the roofs were dripping gently. Today we are just grey & slushy and running with water.
There is a mini Niagara coming down a set of steps near the house that lead up to the fields, and down the track there is a river. It is extraordinary how such a depth of snow as was lying in the fields can melt away so quickly. Water is running everywhere as well a heavy drizzle falling. All prettty unpleasant.
I hope we don't end up with the same problem that we had during the autumn, when it rained so much that the run-off from the saturated fields was affecting the cattle sheds and the Farmer & Eldest son had a seemingly endless task each day of diverting water and trying to keep the sheds dry.
At least I'm able to shed some of the thermals now, if only to don the waterproofs.
It is odd that once snow begins to disappear the sense of being on holiday disappears with it, and life returns to 'normal'. Why does this holiday feeling arise? Is it something to do with not being able to get out and having to rely on ones' own resources and the new routine that is enforced by being snowbound? Or is it only like that for those of us isolated out in the countryside? Or maybe I am romanticising what was in fact a period of hard work and anxiety, though we did enjoy it.
One thing that is very noticable with the rise in temperature is the increased visibility of the small birds...the sparrows are chattering away again in the hedgerows and the blue-tits and robins are audible once again. Snow brings such silence.
I came across an old Welsh saying yesterday, 'A warm January means a cold May'...do you think it works in reverse? I rather hope so.