A second consequence has been that everything in the garden is late this year. These crocuses bloomed in our front garden. For the past few years, they have come and gone by Valentine's Day. These were in full flower at the end of February.
Suddenly, in the last two weeks, I've been witnessing that yearly miracle when the hedgerows, trees, bushes and shrubs erupt into green. Life begins pumping out of the ground and explodes on the retina in a wealth of leaf and shoot.
I'm not going to pretend that I've been offline for something approaching four months. On previous occasions, I've back-filled and written up events after the fact as though they have been contemporaneous. This time I actually can't be bothered. I'm going to write up the main things that have happened as well as looking to the future but I'm going to to it from this point forward.
My last posting took place shortly after the major snow fall which occurred in January. On Merseyside, the snow cleared mostly after a week or so. There were odd icy patches that lingered in spots where the sun did not reach directly. The only really troublesome aspect was the clumps of stubborn black ice which ridged some of the major roads for weeks afterwards.
But they went.
We got off lightly compared with some. Parts of Scotland had snow on the ground for over three months. South East and South West England experienced a couple more blizzards during January and February which, luckily did not really touch us at all.
But it was cold. Perishing cold. The ice continued on our garden pond throughout January and into February and the ground was like iron.
The first consequence has been that the conversation in the shops throughout the last few months has been how bad the winter has been and how long it has lasted. Older, wiser souls mumble on about how this was a real winter like we used to have. And this is true. But even then we should have been saying that it was a bad winter.
A second consequence has been that everything in the garden is late this year. These crocuses bloomed in our front garden. For the past few years, they have come and gone by Valentine's Day. These were in full flower at the end of February.
Many other seasonal expectations were dashed. St David's Day came and went with hardly a daffodil to be seen. Apparently, somewhere out there, there were fields and fields of daffodils which should have been flowering and ready to cash in on a nationalistic bonanza but, this year, they were simply showing rows and rows of struggling stems.
Early in March, Ross and I visited Glenthorne for a Quaker retreat weekend repeating a journey that we made last year. As you can see in these photographs, there was still substantial snow on the hill tops even at that stage. Ross spent most of his time sketching in the garden whilst I took part in some meditation exercises which were to do with giving yourself up to light within.
My revealed images were to do with the yellow and purple crocuses from our front garden - how this linked in with the colours of the third (solar plexus) chakra and the sixth (third eye) chakra and how those numbers also related to the Western system on sol fah notation for music.
At the time I had no inkling as to what it all might mean. In retrospect, I can see that it might link in with the area of infection that was shortly after to lay me low. However, unlike some of my more rationalist fellow Quakers, I am content with some sort of mystery and slow revelation. I didn't feel impelled to explain within seconds of the experience.
One other thing to note is that Ross and I met Ed at this weekend. We've seen him since as well. At this first meeting, I developed a sudden and inappropriate passion for him which I found quite unnerving. And I told Ross so. He graciously said that he trusted me. I said that I was worried that this was something I shouldn't be trusted with.
Luckily, all such feelings have now subsided and we can all get on with our lives. But I had a distinct feeling of unease for a short while.
Anyhow, winter couldn't last forever and gradually, along with the changing of the hour at the end of March, the days lengthened and the sun rose higher in the sky.
Jemima took advantage of the growing warmth and sunshine to lay out on the bed and soak up a few rays.
Shortly after Easter and just before I returned to work after my chest infection, Ross and I took a trip out to Rufford Hall. It's a measure of how quickly time does pass that we were talking of a visit that the two of us made there with Ross's parents as though it were quite recent and, through this Journal, I've just discovered that it was back in June 2002. The only other time was for a performance of The Mikado in 2004.
Anyhow, I mention this here for the simple fact that the gardens were awash with daffodils, glorious golden daffodils. Again, this display was some six weeks behind what you might have expected. There were still large purple crocuses in among the yellow.
I can only think that the later flowering has given the plants access to longer days and warmer temperatures so that their growth is enhanced. Apparently, this is all good for bees as well since they are waking up to an abundance of pollen.
We've also had good signs from the flowering cactus in our front room. This year, after a slow start, it has been ablaze with red flowers.
Our garden has not suffered too much. I thought that we had lost the jasmine that I transplanted last year but that seems to be making a late come back. We've had stonking displays from the hellebores and the camellia. The rhibes was fine but has been better. Our early flowering clematis has just given up its which flowers and the two on the back wall seem to have benefited from a hard pruning because they are romping all over the trellis.
So far, there have been very few signs of slugs and snails. This may be another good sign of the cold weather. Our front door climbing rose is covered in greenfly however.
And then today, Ross and I took a trip out to Speke Hall. Back in April 2006, we mistimed the trip and did not get the full effect of the cherry blossom trees along the boulevards in South Liverpool. We were also too early for the bluebell woods. Another week would have brought perfection but the pink and white froth was fairly magnificent and the bluebells were opening though not in their full glory.
It was worth bunking off Quakers for.