And so we arrive at the ragged, arse-end of winter. That time when the weather teases you saucily one day with sun and warmth, then slaps you in the chops with more snow the next. Last year this tiresome bait-and-switch behaviour went on until the end of April. Here’s hoping winter gives up a little sooner this year.
It feels very much like we’re in a holding pattern right now. It’s too cold to sow all but the most urgent of seeds (tomatoes, sweet peas), too wet to weed and mulch the ground. Yet it’s a bit too, you know, March to be sitting around in sweat pants and binge-watching The West Wing (again).
Even our lazy cats are starting to recognise that it’s March, meaning they get up from in front of the stove to venture outside for 30 seconds and drag in an unsuspecting bird. (Homicide count from yesterday: two robins. Attempted homicide count today: one robin, but it’s still early.) Then they go back to sleep for the next five hours. Cats are bastards, really. But then they do something hilarious like squeezing their giant five-kilo bodies into something that’s clearly too small, and we point and laugh and love them again.
So if this post feels a bit random, it’s a good reflection of how the arse-end of winter feels to me. When the gardening year gets into full swing, that’ll give me something obsessive to really get my teeth into. But, until then, I’ll just impatiently ping from one random thought to another. Is it spring? Let’s go to Sofia in the sunshine! Is it still winter? Let’s go for a trek in the snow! How many hours of The West Wing is too many? Fuck it, let’s WATCH IT ALL! Did I just hear a bird being murdered in the bathroom? That sort of thing.
But if you’re worried that cabin fever is setting in (as suggested by more than one commenter recently), fear not. This winter has been a breeze compared to others. In fact, we’ve probably been out and about more this winter than any other. We’ve been walking, swimming and yoga-ing (is there a proper verb for yoga? There should be) all winter. So it’s not been too hard on us.
|A gloriously sunny and warm Sofia last Saturday.|
|Walking up through our village.|
|‘Look at the snow in the distance!’ we said. ‘Glad it’s gone from the village,’ we said.|
Naturally, we got a fuck ton of snow the next week.
|Rocks. Blue sky. Just because.|
And when all else fails, I can always obsess over cake…