Spring is (not) here?

Here in Blighty (marked on maps as England, Great Britain or United Kingdom) we have been having some really abnormally mild weather for February. I’m pretty sure I smelled the whiff of a barbeque on Saturday.

Out and about, the signs of spring are everywhere. The birds aren’t sure what to do. They now think it’s April and are frantically building nests. My walk in the woods on Saturday afternoon taking photographs captured bluebells coming up rapidly. The snowdrops from January are beginning to fade away, and it’s nice to see the seasons moving on, even if it is a little peculiar.

I do have a rational fear though. One of my many voluntary occupations (also known as hobbies) is allotmenteering. At the moment, my allotment is looking pretty stark and bleak, but it is a work in progress. Within the allotment territory, where it crosses over with my outdoors interests, there is a widespread interest in flora and fauna and gardening in general. Nothing gives me greater pleasure than sweeping autumn leaves aside to reveal spring shoots pushing through, such as now. However, my fear is that this mild weather is short-lived and will soon be replaced by cold, frosty weather, effectively wiping out the new growth, as well as the insects already awake looking for nectar (I’ve seen butterflies, and bees this weekend), stunting the whole process of nature. I want to avoid the whole global warming thing as that’s a massive area. Let’s just blame Brexit. Much easier.

I’m not complaining obviously. It’s nice to see the back of what feels like a long winter, and just like a mountain hare, I shed my winter coat over the weekend, having my first wet shave since October 31st 2017. I now look like a man ten years younger. On my run yesterday morning, I found that the sweat had nowhere to go and just ran off my chin like a dodgy gutter.

As mentioned, Saturday afternoon was spent strolling around the woods trying to capture something photographically. I found initially that I struggled to get going. My photography over the past few months has been city-based and city-inspired and faced with nature and all of its non-man made glory, I struggled to see shots and scenes. Eventually I was snapping away, but it struck me as interesting that my inspiration can shift like that. In the city, there is intentional symmetry, something on every corner, reflections in glass. In nature, it’s a different thread, and you almost have to undergo a personality change, or put on a different pair of glasses. I guess it goes back to a previous post where I discussed beauty, asking what is beauty? What makes the woods beautiful? Is it something we’re taught to think? Nature is beautiful, yet cities aren’t? I know the difference, and I see beauty in both, and I’m still able to choose between them. It’s just a problem as a photographer!

When the (big) smoke gets in your eyes

Every weekend I do something outdoors-related, whether it’s running or walking, or cycling and nine times out of ten it’s in the British hills, mountains and countryside. Except last weekend. I was in London. If you’re anything like the majority of people I told I was going, you’re probably saying to yourself in an awful Cockney accent, “Laaaandaaaaan Taaaaaannnn”, which baffled me and I found mildly irritating after the fifth person felt the need to say it.

Anyway, it was a good trip. Most of it was actually spent outdoors, even if it was urban. I’ve always liked London, especially at times like the weekend where you are just free to stroll along. Time was spent in Regent’s Park, which is a huge open space. I wasn’t completely able to switch off and pretend I was in the countryside however as hovering in the distance at all times were high rise buildings and the sound of sirens. I thought on a couple of occasions I heard a green woodpecker, but it was some of the many thousands of parakeets that populate the city.

rhdr

I was impressed with the bits of greenery that I saw as well as the random standard trees in places, so old that the city has been built around them. I love to explore, no matter where I am, and I was not disappointed, when in Fitzrovia, there was a narrow passage with Regency period houses terraced on each side, and almost every one of them had a frontage jam-packed with potted plants, adding greenery where there is none, fulfilling the need to care for something.

rhdr

I have always said I could never live in a city, although I can see the appeal. One thing to be said about city living is that it’s a constant flow of change – redevelopment of areas already developed. There is no need to fight for the greenbelt, and stand up for the countryside because put simply, there is none. It went centuries ago. People in London fight for the preservation of historical buildings, not nature for the greater part. They don’t get that pang of disappointment, coupled with anger and dread when another developer’s sign goes up on a narrow country lane that was once enjoyed as an escape route from modern life and urban mundanity. Rubbing shoulders with city dwellers, you can sense that they are different. Whether it’s a good different or bad different isn’t an argument short enough to go on this blog, and it also isn’t my argument to make.

As good as the two days were, as the old saying goes, it was good to be home.