There’s an old Scottish saying goes something like this:
“Dinnae cast a cloot until May’s oot”
For those of you not of a Scots persuasion, it basically means don’t even think of discarding one thread of clothing until it’s at least June.
Wise words. I learned them from my Granny.
The past few weeks we have been basking in the warm and radiant yellow glow of spring. The daffodils were swaying, the lambs frolicking, the air pungent and alive. All thoughts of winter were cast aside, it was time for the sun.
But April is indeed the cruelest month. It teases you with these bright shafts of yellow, it tantalises your senses with those smells, that warmth on your face. Then, as you relax into it, it surprises you, sending a dark granite cloud of winter to lash you with icy directionless winds, bitter rain and freezing sleet.
I have just come in from what was supposed to be a long, aimless walk. It lasted 15 minutes. As I write this I am sitting at my desk soaking wet and frozen to the marrow. The scowl of consternation on my brow is becoming a permanent furrow – an April battle scar.
For now, those summer t-shirts are staying in my wardrobe. If ever your Granny tells you something, pay attention and listen well. She will most definitely be right……