Warm sunshine for the first time for months: birds singing, butterflies appearing, lambs playing in warm green fields. We so nearly lost faith in spring. But even now after such a strange cold winter, I do still wonder if the warmth will really last; the forecast is ominous. Thick snow in Devon in March shocked and bewildered us all; a constant topic of conversation all over the county.
Rain and mud followed snow. Fog, sea mist, endless grey days fell one upon another. Little Whiteface lambs arrived in the wet, almost immediately they turned brown as they suckled their muddy mothers then played in the muddy fields.
Suddenly all has changed. New grass is growing, celandine carpet the fields and orchard. Daffodils sing in the sun. Frosted brown camellias are replaced by blousy blooms of pink and red; Forget-me-not’s outline the world in blue. And the birds are shouting their heads off, building nests at last. I counted six swans on the creek today; usually we just have one pair.
Slowly water is draining off the high ground. Feet stay in boots as we trudge across the fields. The stream rages through the valley catching water as it runs off the hills.
And lambing is finished. Hercule has done a wonderful job siring strong, tough little lambs and many sets of twins. A big, handsome pedigree Whiteface Dartmoor boy, he joined the flock a little late last autumn.
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