When it comes to weather, we can become a trifle obsessed. Today, fr’instance, the weather person told me we achieved the highest ever February temperature in the UK – 20.6 C somewhere in Wales. Most people of my close acquaintance believe this is a result of climate change (which happens anyway) exaggerated by human impact. Me too, as it happens. Where this will end is another debate but such informed voices as I’m inclined to believe don’t think it will end well. Then again other voices say we are already doomed and others that these things are correctable if we take action which will be dramatic and societally significant.
And as a listener and sifter of all I hear, I tr and do my little bit to make a difference though I doubt my efforts add up to a hill of beans (and if it does amount to a bean hillock, I suppose I’ll have to eat them and that will increase the methane content of the atmosphere and on it goes).
And all of this I thought about as went for a stroll with the Textiliste and Dog around the ancient town of Dunwich in Suffolk.
Or what is left of it since most of it has fallen into the sea as a result of coastal erosion which of course will be increased with rising sea levels which will follow from the melting of the polar ice caps which results from climate change…
There was a bit of a theme, you see.
And it could be more than a little depressing, all of these thoughts crowding in on us.
But our walk, along the cliffs – or what remains of them…. yada yada, takes us through ruined monastery dissolved by Henry VIII and recently strengthened.
Greyfriars would have been very impressive back in the day and we took the opportunity to wander around, eventually finding ourselves in an ancient wood.
And here, among ancient trees, we came across the most intense carpets of snowdrops I have seen in many a long day.
The snowdrops in our garden this year are fabulous – large and long lasting. The best ever, me thinks. And this wild explosion of white was stunning.
We mused that there has to be a link between the unseasonable warmth and this fecundity. It’s a seductive thought.
And then we rejoined the path, which took us back towards the road as part of the cliff was deemed unstable and the footpath needs to be reconstituted further inland.
Climate change feels real, even in the anecdotal way most of us absorb experiences. It is easy to see the consequences in the news bulletins. It is also easy to feel, sometimes, with calmer warmer winters and displays of wild flowers that would have had Mum purring, that, actually it’s not all that bad.
Me? I think nature’s merely sugaring the pill and I’m not about to stop my puny efforts to help. But that’s not going to stop me enjoying the sugar coating while I can. Dog too, I’ll be bound…