In like a lion

The March winds are blustering around the house, banging into walls, knocking things over, carrying things off to play with. It sounds more impressive than it really is (I hope). In town this morning, the market stallholders were playing safe and not putting up their awnings, but the wind wasn't so very noticeable in the Market Place itself, once you had struggled through the wind tunnel at the foot of Claypath.

It's blowing us some very changeable weather. Wednesday afternoon was bright - a cold wind and warm sunshine - and we went out to the Botanic Gardens for a stroll. There wasn't much to see. I'd hoped for crocuses, because the garden across the road is imperial with gold and purple, but perhaps they aren't of sufficient botanic interest. There were a couple of pheasant and a dabchick in the area overlooked by the bird hide, and daffodil spears in profusion. I hope they know what they're doing, I always fear for daffodils when they first appear, so tall and vulnerable to the wind.

It's not time for spring flowers yet, with their sunshine colours. We still have the white flowers of the end of winter. I passed this drift of snowdrops in the churchyard that borders the allotments, as I was taking the scenic route into town yesterday morning.