Wednesday 28th March
Since the dawn of time Man (and Woman presumably) has worshipped the Sun. It was vital for warmth, for the crops, for their very survival. And even now, we worship the sun; flocking to lay under its healing rays at every opportunity. And when we have a long dreary wet winter, such as the one we seem to be stuck in, we begin to wonder not when, but if, Summer will ever come. It is officially Spring, but it feels like Winter is forever with us. Cold biting rain and wind, so unusual for the Dordogne, is our constant companion. And yet here and there daffodils are struggling to keep their heads up in the rain; our splendid magnolia tree next to the Café de Paris did bloom, but it was short-lived and the petals were blown away or they turned brown far too quickly; the few cherry blossoms look quite sad in the rain.
And yet the earth is still turning, I suppose we would have felt the jolt and fallen over, if it wasn’t. The clockwork mechanism of the heavens is still clunking away, and Summer must come. It just may be one we struggle to recognise. Let us hope not. The older we get the more we limp through the Winters and long for a little touch of the Sun – maybe we know there may be only a few left.