Springtime isn’t necessarily a journey to the countryside, it might be just around the corner from wherever you are.
The first weekend of February, here in Northern Britain, isn’t when you’d leap to the thought that springtime has begun. But in it’s own many thousands of small ways it has. And over a weekend of walking, on my own and with Sarah, I’ve been looking for the many thousands of small ways. Mostly around Liverpool 8, where my feet most often take me.
Saturday was the first Granby Street Market of the year, after what’s now the usual gap in January. Gusty winds blowing down the just put up gazebos, sorry Lawrie and everyone, but very good to be back as the eleventh year of such a special market got going. After which I started walking around.
Saturday afternoon in a cold wind, then warmer calmer Sunday with occasional heavy downpouring and Sarah, looking for springtime.
Down in St James’s Gardens around the cathedral is the expected feast of snowdrops. More this year, like there are always more as they gradually grow along the banks of the garden.
Across Parliament Street and along Windsor, just in time for a cup of tea and a piece of pear cake at Squash. Open from 11 to 3 on Sundays now.
Back along Windsor then through Elwy and the Welsh Streets to Princes Park.
Round the corner and into Princes, the gate still advertising yesterday’s Street Market.
One of the occasional downpours is now happening. To the no doubt delight of the springtime arrivals.
For a while we take shelter, then walk on anyway. Past more springtime arrivals and the home we’ll soon move into, close to here.
Later on, dried out and typing this, there are still snowdrops next to me. Just a few of the many at Sarah’s allotment. Quietly determined, like spring.