The high rim of Kinder Scout and Bleaklow's distant watershed shone brilliant white under Alpine skies soon after St David's Day, and each morning the ponds were sealed under several inches of blue-green ice.
Then came a sudden warm blast from the south and the birds went mad at nest-building in the tallest trees. I was reminded of SR Badmin's March Trees, used years ago as a Shell advertisement, with masses of multi-coloured catkins in a white jug on a cottage window-sill as foreground to a riverside scene of naked trees just bursting with pink buds. A proud, mute swan is sailing by, with glimpses of prunus blossom some way off, near cottages and a blunt church spire.
When the sun catches tree tops against a busy sky of little clouds on March days, its particular angle seems to possess a magic not present later in spring. The landscape is deserted as footpaths are closed in the wake of the foot and mouth disease outbreak. But there is great promise in the air. Each morning now the cock chaffinch proclaims his "little bit of bread and no cheese" as the sun comes up and I hear the insistent percussion of a busy woodpecker knocking the living daylight out of some unseen trunk down in the wood.
The old dictum that "a peck of March dust is worth a king's ransom" still holds true, but has less relevance now than it used to have because cereals are less commonly sown in spring. In an average year, most corn is drilled in September and October so a dry spring seedbed is less essential. Looking at the corn fields this spring, I find it hard to imagine any dry soil clouds flying behind the seed drill; more likely are sticky wheel tracks left by passing machinery.
After the warm blast from the south came a brisk, west wind that drove great, blue-grey clouds across the hilltops. The mist cleared and a dazzling rainbow appeared. Next day was cloudless, a piercing sun cutting through every woodland corner, picking out small detail on distant hillsides. Even the odd streak of a persistent snow drift could be seen on Kinder Scout. Maybe, as the saying goes, we'll have more snow to carry off the remnants of the last fall. The old adage "March many weathers" rings true this year.
