Hibernation continues. And it’s cold out there. Although a beautiful day today, in many ways. But I imagine few people in Britain are going to remember January 2021 at all, in the long run.
The white stuff hasn’t featured properly in my life since I was last in Tromsø in April 2018, and there is presently none of it in Hebden Bridge. But it took only a short walk up into the hills to be faced by scenes like this. Contacts in Tromsø also suggest that at the moment, they have none at all, while Spain and Portugal suffer under the worst winter in living memory. This is one of those shots that honestly is not monochrome, though you wouldn’t know it.
Spring Wood is its name…. but it is going to feel like a very long time until spring. With weeks of stagnancy and economic devastation to come, let us at least hope there are more days with as good weather as today. If Bojo thinks I’m staying at home on such a day, he is mistaken.
Amongst its other functions, this blog serves to record the weather patterns, and neither of the last two winters (2018/19, 19/20) have seen any real snow. The last truly white period, at least where I have been, was in March 2018. Today wasn’t a frozen apocalypse, but it did mean that 2021 has already seen more snow in Hebden Bridge — or, here, Mytholmroyd, just down the road — than the last two calendar years combined. I’m not objecting. It does provide good photography material.
A slight dusting of snow in the morning, nothing serious but in Britain it’s the kind of thing that leads to everything getting cancelled, meaning I couldn’t attend my planned football match this evening and thus get 11 different places in 11 days. There are still things to see at home, however. Which, looking back on 2020, is just as well, isn’t it?
If given the chance I would remove the white lines on the bottom right and there’s a little red sign between the benches that bothers me. But otherwise I am satisfied with this shot of the landward end of Cromer Pier which evokes a misty but pleasant day doing very little in North Norfolk, waiting…
Now that’s a mackerel sky if ever there was one. A change in the weather is on the way…
An adequate metaphor for how things stand. Sunshine for now, but about to be swamped by dark clouds once more.
To distract me from going off on one, let’s note that this is day 3,333 of my blog, so one third of the way to 10,000 days. Multiplying up I note that is, roughly, 27.4 years, and so if I’m still posting in early January 2039, when I will be a few months off my 70th birthday, I will have reached day 10,000. I’m sure an actuary could give me the odds for my still being alive (and being 42) on that day. Whether such odds mean a damn in the current situation is another matter.
Today was considerably less mobile and active than yesterday. No football, even: making it the first Saturday I have voluntarily not attended a match since mid-February. The reason? Rain, constant rain, endless, all day. Apologies then for the boredom factor but at least we can still go to the pub.
A foul, miserable day of weather that matched the general mood. September sun has just about sustained the local pubs, but once it stops being very agreeable to sit outside — as it definitely was today — then they will slowly rot away and die, like most other things that bring fun into our lives, presently.
Being 42 