I’m embracing the little slice of early summer we’ve had; too sunny to be in front of a screen, or to sew the bunting I’ve promised a friend. We were outside for every minute of last weekend’s glorious weather.
Inspired by Xanthe’s recent talk at Blogtacular, I even made a little clip. (It’s my first attempt- you got to start somewhere right?!) But next weekend I really will sew that bunting come sunshine or showers..
When I told a friend that I’d be spending another sunny weekend exploring the Isle of Wight she replied ‘You must know every blade of grass on that island’. Far from it! The longer I live here, the more hidden corners I discover. Whilst it’s only 28 miles across, there’s still so much yet to explore.
Even familiar spots feel new as the seasons change. The brilliant mustard yellow is already fading from the fields, and the wild garlic doesn’t hit your nose like it did a week ago. The bluebells are still out in Borthwood Copse, and I soared above them on the rope swing to my dizzy heart’s content.
This recent read discussed how children are taught about icebergs and rain forests, without ever knowing the name of their local wildflowers. We risk making conservation a too-big-to-tackle problem when really it can begin with a bug hotel in your back garden.
We have a book of Isle of Wight wild flowers, full of beautiful drawings. I’d like to be able name a few more, and avoid future heated hawthorn v cow parsley debates (don’t ask!) Then perhaps I’d be a little closer to knowing every blade of grass.
Blue skies and spring flowers peppered this year’s perfectly sunny Isle of Wight Randonnee. The few puffy clouds and breath of breeze made conditions perfect. We sailed through a morning out east, whizzing round corners with other riders, and bingeing on tea and flapjacks at the Bembridge checkpoint.
Tom borrowed a speedier bike than his usual Dawes (thanks Dad!). His super-skinny tyres urged us on and we rode faster than any previous year.
With so many cyclists on one route, there’s always someone to slipstream or overtake in a rash moment of enthusiasm; but everyone gave each other plenty of room (bar the one gentleman who swung wildly in to the middle of the road, almost causing a lycra-clad pileup.)
The sun shone shone all day and, thinking back, I don’t know how I didn’t find the excuse to have an ice cream. Next year I must remember to stop at Compton Beach for a Mr Whippy before the big climb up the Military Road.
Friday was a spectacularly shitty day at work; I found myself actually trembling. Lots of the team talked about going home to a bottle (or two) of wine.
I had a glass of red. And a massage. And a sob. But none of it felt as good as taking the long route back home, wandering through the park at an extra slow pace and soaking up the stillness in the last light.
It seems the most wonderful fact of life that the best mood lifter is right outside the door, completely free, and always new. Everyone feels better after a few lungfuls of fresh air and a moment of quiet.
Whether it’s running around and scrambling through mud, or just sitting on a park bench and listening to the trees murmur, a spot of nature surely must be the best thing for the soul.
How wonderful to drive home in the pouring rain after enjoying a week of perfect Welsh sunshine. Monday was a quiet reacquaintance with home, resting from some big runs, and feeling full to brim with fresh air and outdoor adventuring.
We stayed in a perfect stone cottage, curled up by the fire with plenty of wine and cheese, and a hellafresh lot of books. We ran river gorges, explored ancient castles and staggered up some steep hills. As a newbie runner, I felt full of energy and enthusiasm, though could never jump with quite the energy of those lambs..
A week of simple things: good food, fresh air and deep sleep: the perfect way to wake up to Spring.
