The Link Early Spring 2020 The Link Feb-Mar 2020 v1 | Page 31

Whatever the weather
article & photos by Geraldine Woods-Humphrey
D
awn, and I was on the top of Midsummer Hill
watching the sunrise colouring the
landscape in shades of orange and gold as it
peeked through a narrow stratum of grey cloud.
A bitter north-west wind was buffeting me,
making it difficult to hold my iPhone still so that
I could record the scene, rose-gold light
reflecting on the floods below me.
My iPhone is the only camera I have now and it is
grossly inadequate for my needs but arthritis makes
it almost impossible to hold my heavy Nikon D300s.
I have searched for a long time for a lighter
replacement, but everything I look at seems like a
downgrade from my old, trusty camera, so, for the
time being, I make do with the iPhone but not
without deep regret and a lot of moaning.
That morning, with wind numbed fingers and an
excited terrier tugging on the lead, I accidentally
took a selfie. It was an alarming photo: my eyes
peered out between my scarf and a woolly hat
pulled down over my ears as far as it would go. I
imagined the headlines: ‘Yeti spotted on the
Malverns. ‘Dawn sighting…’ etc, etc. But I was
grateful for both the scarf and the hat, I only wish I’d
put some gloves on. Down at the house it had
seemed quite mild, up here the wind cut straight
through me.
The floods have receded now and Christmas has
become a shadowy event located somewhere in our
memories. We squelched our way through autumn
and early winter, and experienced more fogs than I
can remember; up here we had so many days without
seeing the sun it was a relief to watch that sunrise.
The Link
We’ve had one of the wettest periods I can
remember. It has ruined crops, flooded people’s
homes and generally made life miserable. There
have always been weather extremes, but global
warming is intensifying them and somehow we
have to manage the consequences, even in our own
backyards. I planted winter salad crops, kale and
spinach last autumn, as I did in 2018. Then they
responded to the mild winter and grew resplendent
and tasty, this year they’ve sulked and barely put on
any growth at all. I’ve also been extending the
woodland garden and planning the planting
scheme. What do you plant that will cope with such
volatile weather and provide a succession of flowers
from spring onwards for the pollinators? For the
woodland area I’ve opted for more winter flowering
shrubs and trees as well as hellebores and
pulmonaria. At least if the weather is mild enough
to bring out the bees there will, hopefully, be
something for them.
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