February

My 63rd February.

How many more will I have?

IF Jehovah keeps me in his book of life, then I hope to have unnumbered Februarys - life 'to time indefinite' in the restored earthly Paradise.

Audrey and I were out this morning, but not for long. It was a bit too cold for her. But we did a good part of her magazine route - finding no-one in though - and a couple of my return visits - finding no-one in once again. Then I took her shopping.

In his Shepherd's Calendar, John Clare wrote this about February - the sort of February where you get a false spring - then March comes in like a lion!

The snow is gone from cottage tops
The thatch moss glows in brighter green
And eaves in quick succession drops
Where grinning icicle has been
Pit patting wi a pleasant noise
In tubs set by the cottage door
And ducks and geese wi happy joys
Douse in the yard pond brimming oer

The sun peep thro the window pane
Which childern mark wi laughing eye
And in the wet street steal again
To tell each other spring is nigh...


but the poem ends like this:

Nature soon sickens of her joys
And all is sad and dumb again
Save merry shouts of sliding boys
About the frozen furrowed plain
The foddering boy forgets his song
And silent goes wi folded arms
And croodling shepherds bend along
Crouching to the whizzing storms.


So far, this isn't a John Clare February - more a Roman one. I believe the Romans called this month 'February Filldyke' as it rained all the time. We have got off to rainy start, rather than a springlike one.

But spring is round the corner.