Mercurial March

March came in like a lamb... beautiful weather. Beach weather, even: Kareena and I met for a socially distanced walk at the beach and then ended up sitting by the wall, socially distanced metres apart, for our usual chat and pray.

Teaching online had become a joy, as we had devised a system which gave the children instant feedback on their work and cut down on the many hours of marking. I still worked long days, but was able to take breaks at lunchtime to sit in the sun and relax for a few minutes.

Back at school on 8^th March, so we were up earlier for our morning cycle ride: mine to school, Richard’s to accompany me. One day, he spotted nine buzzards circling together in the air above. It was good to get back to a regular cycling routine.

It was strange to be back at school in our Covid ‘bubbles’ – out of our usual classroom, sitting apart, unable to share books or equipment, only able to use certain areas of the school at certain times. Still, the children were glad to see one another and it was good to reconnect with them after a 7 week break.

However, restrictions lasted for only two weeks until Guernsey reopened on March 22^nd, with plans for further relaxing of border restrictions until later on in the summer. One of our colleagues burst into tears of relief at the news.

But spring has sprung. Daffodils, violets and primroses exploded everywhere, trees and bushes started to come into bud and birds arrived on patio. Robins – 4 at one point; dunnocks; great tits, blackbirds and thrushes; and even a pair of coal tits all visited the bird feeders regularly. A great joy to watch them from the kitchen window....

 ...and out like a lamb, after acting like a lion in the penultimate week. Several days of stormy weather: wind, rain, gales, hail... everything spring has in its wide repertoire was thrown at us. And then came beautiful balmy weather.. a warm wind with bright sunshine raised temperatures into the late teens and the front hallway thermometer registered 35 degrees. 

Sprimg sprang into action big time. 

Ferocious February? No, Feeble February. Even FANTASTIC February

Well, we had hoped that February would be drier than January, but it certainly didn’t start off that way and by February 3^rd the garden was completely awash again: the pump could barely keep up and water flowed into the ‘swamp’ as quickly as water was pumped out.

Even February 2^nd – Candlemas – was a disappointment. In my mind, it should be crisp and clear. To add to that, the film Groundhog Day, featuring the semi-mythical groundhog Punxsutawney Phil, wasn’t even on television. Not that I would have had time to watch: I was mired in online marking as, once again, we struggled to carry on teaching through lockdown. I worked out that I had in the region of 250 assessments a week to feedback on...

So I did what any self-respecting teacher would do and took up some crafting hobbies. Specifically, a little darning, a little crochet and a little embroidery, customizing my elegantly navy face mask with yellow and white flowers and a little rainbow. #littlethingstokeepmesane

At school, we were told to decorate/embellish a mask, send in the photo and the deputy head would create a 'Guess Who' powerpoint. I made quite sure that I would be completely unrecognisable...

...though I did have my own more respectable, embroidered one.

Half term was a relief and provided an opportunity to catch up on marking... those assignments that had been handed in, anyway. And then it snowed! Light grains, consistently for a few hours, were enough to put patchy coverings on banks and lawn. Fun.

Guernsey continued in lockdown... mask wearing in force.

Generally, February turned into a maw of lockdown and weather. Warm days, sunny days – heating up the front porch to ridiculous temperatures, cold days. We had grainy snow one afternoon, which lingered in ice puddles for several days, but not the wonderful soft sticky stuff we longed for. High winds, waves, bright seas...every day seemed different. And, despite the greyness, it became gradually lighter.

It seemed hard to stay in touch with friends and family, despite Zoom or Skype. Overwhelmed with marking online work, which trickled relentlessly over long days, it was hard to find creativity for anything else. The lockdown was not at all as enjoyable as last year's, when we had the wonderful company of Jonny and Adele, and then Nicky and Richard next door...

Still, I made lemon curd; finished customising my face mask with embroidery; started, half-heartedly, a crochet project before running out of wool. The woodburner came into its own, greedily eating up garden kindling, throwing heat out into the room. I discovered a new and successful recipe for gluten-free Christmas cake. The trouble was... I had adapted it, but not remembered what I had done. Prunes were a factor, as were apricots and too much liquid. Had to try again.

Feeling sorry for the birds, I decided to be more intentional and discovered that they loved porridge oats. The robins were particular fans and we soon discovered that four of them lived in the garden when they dcied on the oats even before I had retreated into the house after restocking the feeder every morning. Great tits, coal tits, dunnocks and even a wren were soon seen to join the robins. What a joy.

 Christmas decorations were, finally, tucked away, save for the collection of hearts which moved to a twig tree in the entrance hall. A little tidying up, a little catching up of emails. A sense of time wasted, spinning in circles as we waited for warmth.

A serious energy deficit, a sense of impotency in Feeble February. 

And then... it all changed. My winter posts are heavily weather dominated, not least because the weather has such an effect on our wellbeing. The last week in February was marked by much warmer weather, no rain and brilliant sunshine. Flowers bloomed: daffodils, primroses, violets, celandines...

Sitting outside on the last Saturday of the month, my shoulders were sun-tinged. I can't say sunburnt - we are talking February in the northern hemisphere, after all - but definitely a change of colour after an hour of basking in the sun on the bench outside the front door. No wind, 'feels like' temperatures in the twenties.

Add to that: lockdown rules relaxed. We were allowed to 'bubble' with one other household and could gather outside, masked and socially distanced, with up to five of us altogether. It made such a difference being able to meet friends again. Of course, I'd had a great deal of online interaction: meetings with children and colleagues; Bible studies online; and numerous one to one or group gatherings via Zoom. Still, being able to have friends round, or go out to breakfast, was a joy. The last Saturday, in fact, we had a pre-breakfast cycle ride on our way to our 'bubble' for breakfast; bumped into a friend out for a walk on the way home; a family stopped on their cycle ride past our house; and my dear friend and colleague Carry and husband dropped in on their cycles for a socially distanced chat. Really wonderful.

So my motivation returned. I was inspired by Orsola De Castro, an Italian woman who has founded and created Fashion Revolution in a bid to change the way we approach fashion, encouraging us to conserve and restore the environment with the choices we make about fashion. One of the simplest changes was to repair, rather than throw away, clothes.

In theory, that has never been a problem for me, but I don't always catch the necessary repairs in time. All through lockdown I have kept cosy in a couple of old - at least 25 years between them - cashmere jumpers. Both of them had been repaired but still had worn completely through at the elbows, the sleeves hanging in tatters. Inspried by Orsola, I cut the sleeves off to just above elbow length, hemming them neatly, patching the larger holes and embroidering wherever I could, albeit in the same colour. 

I was thrilled with the result and am inspired to, perhaps, seek out similar garments in charity shop throw outs to see if I can similarly rehabilitate beautiful wool. A new hobby...

So, when I look back, I see a full month. I may have felt, at times, as if I did nothing except sit in front of  a computer, teaching lessons, marking work or attempting to sort out a myriad of different issues, but in fact life was considerably richer than that. Prayers with friends over Zoom, or writing a prayer in a birthday card, were answered subtly and quietly. Creativity in embroidery and sewing lifted my spirits. And talks with family - Cara particularly becoming ever more interactive - were a joy.

Fantastic February indeed.

March Mayhem

The rain continued on into March. The rain continues on into March. The rain will very likely, most probably, perhaps certainly, continue on into March.

Four storms within a couple of weeks, dumping copious amounts of water onto our tiny rock of granite stuck in the English Channel. The peak was during the night of March 4th, where we awoke the following day to flooding.

My commute - normally 25 minutes - took 50, as I had to turn back twice before finding a lane which was not barred by a deep pond. (I may have stopped for a few minutes to photograph and film. Who wouldn't?) The first one, at the bottom of Donkey Hill, was a flooded valley, water stretching up across the fields as far as the eye could see. There was a handy abreveur situated there, manfully doing its best to channel water safely into an underground douit, but it was outclassed. The water was so deep that I didn't dare expose the electrics on the bicycle. I did, eventually, sail through a relatively shallow puddle, holding my breath and coasting across gently. To have turned around would have added yet another ten minute ride.

Meanwhile, at home, the flooded vege patch/firewood stack had spread all the way across the far side of the garden, the patio around the shed boasting an inch of water. The ground had been soggy for weeks but this was the last straw. Or the last few hundred gallons, I suppose. There was absolutely nowhere for the water to drain and it was, in any case, being topped up by water flowing from the (slightly higher) field next door.

My neighbour, Dear Nicky Next Door, started pumping out her well in the hope that the ground water would then flow into it. Richard went out and bought a pump, dug a trench and sank it into the ground. (We have great plans to dig a soakaway so that we are more prepared next time and can start to pump water before it gets to surface aka crisis level.) It took a couple of days, but the level in the flower beds started to subside, the water disappearing although the soil was still soggy. I fear for my little apple tree... the camellias, the pittosporum and the hydrangeas... but will just have to Wait And See.

We had a slight 'discussion' as to whether the dehumidifier, or leaving the shed wide open to the drying wind, was the best way of drying out the shed before it started to rot. Compromised for a bit of both.

Then we paused, and waited for the rain to stop.

Meanwhile, at school... parents' evenings looming; parents taking their children out of school on holiday, with an hour's notice, in one case; parents voicing their opinions. Sometimes, all those years of professional training and experience, not to mention successfully parenting two wonderful human beings, seems irrelevant and I obviously (in some quarters) really do not have anything to say about how A Particular Child is best taught. Hmmm.

March mayhem? Indeed. But 'in like a lion, out like a lamb'. Spring is most definitely coming as flowers start to erupt on the grassy banks. Celandines flood yellow everywhere I look; primroses stud the banks; violets hide in the hedgerows.

Then, of course, the mayhem rapidly accelerated as Covid-19 took over. Have documented thoughts elsewhere, but by the end of the month we were almost self-isolating, with a lockdown imposed by Guernsey. Not to mention Jonny and Adele occupying our newly-created tiny 'guest wing'. I'm quite proud of the lovely little suite of rooms I have created...

So, here we are. The days are getting longer - in many ways. The sun is brighter: and we try to stay bright, trusting that God will bring about great good and His glory in an overwhelmed, panic-stricken, helpless world.

March madness

We have GALLOPPED through March. The days have grown increasingly lighter, the weather - despite Storm Gareth, so windy that I barely made it home in one piece on the bicycle - increasingly warmer. Several days spent sitting outside sipping coffee, if not taking an after-Sunday-lunch nap on the patio.

Daffodils are giving way to celandines; wild garlic is beginning to compete with the odd bluebell spiking out of the hedgerows; violets and daisies stud the lawn, primroses covering the banks along the lanes.

Stunning sunrises and sunsets, too.

The sun has been a fiery ball, shooting up above the hedge, blazing straight in to the bedroom window.

I'm grateful to be able to cycle, despite my arthritic knee: the specialist referred to the X-ray as 'horrifying' in that the cartilage has degenerated hugely and the knee is beginning to become somewhat deformed. Nevertheless, he also says I am managing it 'tremendously well' with exercise etc, so I shall continue to do so.

Converting my cycle to electric power is, however, greatly welcome.

Exercise and nature aside, March is full of cooing over photos and videos of Cara; parents' evenings - nearly four hours one night, over three hours the second (but at least we are not writing reports this term); and quite a few meals with friends and neighbours, always great fun. Meeting some fascinating people, too - my neighbour Nicky has some intriguing and interesting friends.

Friends: John Melhuish, a Catholic priest I have kept in touch with for over thirty years, and who has - had - friends on Guernsey who he met up with when he visited a few years ago, died suddenly. Wendy, a friend in church lost her ninety-five year old mother - not unexpected, of course, but still very sad. A good friend is undergoing chemotherapy... life is not without its sadnesses and difficulties.

Halfway through the month, though: our first Nightstop guest. We signed up to Nightstop - involving numerous training days, much form-filling and more than a little trepidation - which offers a safe place to sleep for a vulnerable young person. In Guernsey, homelessness looks like sofa-surfing, where a young person might leave the family to stay on a friend's sofa. We were lucky enough to be the scheme's first hosts on the island, as Nightstop was introduced to Guernsey only a few months ago. Pickle was in heaven, lapping up the attention and tickles which our guest kindly providd for her. And the best bit: a few days after the guest stayed, a more permanent solution was found for them as Action For Children worked hard to find accommodation.

And so the month rolled by....Easter approaches.

Lenten twigs: Swedish paskriset

It's Friday... but Sunday's a-coming! #lent #Easter #GoodFriday