March 31st
We report: we step over ribbons of morning fog, trying not to get our feet caught there or in the marshy patches of land. It is not as quiet as when we came here in the winter; there are ducks flying from pond to pond, and we hear moorhens and frogs in the dawn chorus.
March 30th
We report: it had been raining for some time when the sun came out. The sunshine caught the raindrops like so many silver needles, and we were looking for clinking as they fell to the ground. Instead, we heard the whisper of water through young leaves.
March 29th
We report: the anticyclone that had been hovering over our us is moving west, and the clouds now rise and rise and rise. We watch the needle in the barometer move from “fair” to “change”, and without stopping for long, “rain”. Even so, the air is still dry, full of sunlight.
March 28th
We report as quietly as possible: our expert has just seen a doe, there, between the trees. They tapped us on the shoulder, we turned around, and in this half-second, it was gone. We think it will come back if we stay very still. Our expert generally has trouble staying still.
March 27th
We report: this night sky is a little hazy, halfway between mist and a proper cloud cover. Either way, it is absorbing light, and keeping it; it has within itself the moon, the stars, and the city lights. The moon makes a valiant effort to show through even as it is about to set.
March 26th
We report about spring showers we had not we realised we had missed so dearly. They only last a few minutes, a challenge to catch. When we do not make it, the small puddles mock us. One time, our expert calls, and holds their phone up to the sky so we can hear how loud it gets.
March 25th
We report: it has not rained in the past couple of days. It is chilly, but the grass is dry enough that we lay down our coat on top of it, and then us on top of the coat. We have no way to prove it, but the clouds that we see from here are the best ones. Perhaps we fall asleep.
March 24th
We report: the west wind veered southwest through the night, and the moderate breeze turned into a strong breeze. Fog banks advanced towards land in the early morning, but dissipated before first lights. It is now the coldest it will get today; it feels exactly right.
March 23rd
We report: because of the ambiguity of the light at this time of day, we wondered what was cloud and what was sky for a second. Once we managed to focus our eyes, we finally could see the filaments of steam billowing through the sunset fluorescence. Soon, it all withered away.
March 22nd
We report late in the morning: the weather is perfectly typical today, temperatures not one degree above or below the maximum and minimum average for the season. We find genuine and profound thrill in this medium, mediocre, conventional, common, classic bit of normality.
March 21st
We report: It is jarringly sunny today, to the point we cannot help but bring it up in all our conversations. We are standing downwind to a rapeseed field, and the flowers’ sticky smell is permeating the air. It remains in the back of our nose when we walk away.
March 20th
We report during the half hour in the evening when birds cannot help but sing. Recently, a few more species have joined the sparrows that kept on chirping through winter. We can only really pick out the blackbirds in the mix. It gets late, and dark, and the birds do not quiet.
March 19th
We report: new moon on a clear night. Since the last time we saw the stars like this, a lot has changed. Some of them are gone, new ones have appeared. We ought to remember what spring constellations look like, but we barely do. It is too cold to try and jog our memory tonight.
March 18th
We report in between rolling waves: it is difficult to tell the difference between rain and ocean spray. Our expert is walking in front of us, and we cannot make out a word they say. There is all around enough chaos that we eventually yield to the weather, and head back home.
March 17th
We report: every year, we look at March closely with the hope of understanding what it is. It never makes sense the way we want it to; it is never another month of winter, nor is it ever really the first month of spring. We have to be here each day, and try to make it ours.