Its been a day of contrasts - we left Edinburgh in the snow and arrived in Norwich to warm sunshine and a balmy spring day. Same island but weather poles apart.
Northumberland and Yorkshire were sodden, standing water in fields and rivers swollen by the excess rain to carry away. But when we got home and I walked into the back garden I realised that the ground was so dry I need to make sure that the pots had the saucers put back so that they could retain their moisture a little longer...
However I want to tell you about what I noticed as we sat on the train and watched the countryside zoom by. I was suddenly reminded of the books I read as a child. Like every child in my generation I had a huge number of Ladybird books. They were fabulous and full of information, as well as full of fun.
I had a set that dealt with the seasons and I vividly recall the picture of the farmer ploughing his fields with a large flock of seagulls following on closely behind. Today I saw that very same image played out in reality on a number of occasions as the land was ploughed ready for the spring crops to be planted.
There is something deeply attractive about freshly ploughed dark brown soil. Something that promises much and yet remains slightly mysterious. Something essential and unchanging. Something that speaks of the interdependence of nature.