It’s miserable and gloomy here in the UK of GB and NI. The clouds hang heavy and there is a deep chill in the damp, dank air. A chill that seems to rise from the earth, trapped beneath the canopy that blocks the sun. It’s so terribly dark, all day, utterly dull. The roads are dirty and the bare trees feel sorry for themselves.
It’s always this way though, when February arrives. This country is tired of its winter, and wears its cloak in a bedraggled, patchy mess. It is too tired to cascade its jewels of beauty, and sunrises and sunsets are a thing of the past. Or future.
Sometimes at night the clouds will clear and the perpetual grey will be replaced with something quite marvellous. Stars, millions of them, glittering in the black wintry sky. And a moon which moves overhead and rises and sets in the most glorious fashion. We are treated, I daresay, once in a blue February moon to the wonders of the galaxy, and as it shines down upon the earth, for a few hours, it feels surreal and magical.
February is not such a terrible month. But ohhh I do feel the ache in my bones for some sunshine, for some heady long summer afternoons, for thick, dense, green foliage gently swaying in a breeze, the call of a myriad of birds, life rustling in every nook and cranny, long grasses and giant daisies creating a sea of waves in summery fields… it will be March soon. Blossoms will bud, the sun will stay a while longer and enjoy a final cup of tea before she departs elsewhere, and this perpetual darkness will end. Our exposure to space will be lessened, our world will be bathed in light.
So. I’ll stop here. I will enjoy the deep glumness of this chill that I feel permeating my bones. I will rest my achey muscles and await the spring with bated breath.
Ocean Bream 