A swell of birdsong, the strengthening of the sun, the days lengthening and the countryside waking up again. I will always love March. There’s a moment when everything seems to yawn and stretch, as if a distant alarm clock has rung and suddenly we’re all awake again.
For months the only sign of life from the little cottages and farmhouses that dot through the fields here has been the curling woodsmoke from the chimneys. Now though shutters are flung open and people emerge again, tractors trundling through the fields, folk chatting over fences in the village, life being lived again.
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Between to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.