By lunchtime we had fine drizzle, a thin all-embracing haze. This was good, peaceful and cool. Then gradually, by degrees, rain fell properly. Stair rods, cats and dogs, call it what you will. Great wet.
We took to the Great Indoors; Alan to that man-sanctuary - The Shed, to do things inexplicable with what modern educationalists call 'resistant materials'. Chester whinged at the door; his great Pointer nose (pressed to the jamb) sensing, no doubt a myriad of opportunities on the other side. Wilson, finding the larder open seized the opportunity to gnaw a hole through a bag of dog food and gorge on its nutritious innards.
Me? Aware that stuff's on the cusp of being, I'm pacing expectantly, camera in hand. I'm rewarded at every turn:
Look! - fresh salad, coriander and foetal beetroot. The big stuff - trees and the like - they're easy to see - but these little things, so fragile they hardly have a place on this earth could go unnoticed and unannounced. What strength they must have to force their way through soil and stone. It's that ' The force that through the green fuse drives the flower......' thing again.
Elsewhere peas, beans and potatoes nudge their way up towards the light - if this seems a little late to you lowlanders, remember we're on the top of a (low) mountain here. It seems pretty good to me.
Spring's shaping up well: 4 orchids on the lane, roadsides and hedgerows milky with cow parsley and hawthorn. Chunky independent lambs, cows and calves now out grazing on the hill, birdies nesting. Tra la! ......Would that I were religious. I might then say 'Praise Be!'
I might anyway.