Saturday 28 April 2012

Immersed in the subject

And so it rains.

Ever since the recent implementation of the hosepipe ban in several areas of the UK, due to several years of below-average precipitation, there's been plenty of the wet stuff falling from the sky. I would like to think that the press release in March, which announced the impending ban, was the 21st Century equivalent of a rain dance and now we're reaping the rewards.

Despite the grey skies, it is most welcome. In the landscape, wet flushes, ponds, streams, rivers and lakes have all suffered from the lack of rain. Underground aquifers, and surface reservoirs too, have been hit by increased abstraction to maintain our lifestyles and industry. So a damp April has been a bit of a relief, unless you wanted to mow your lawn.

Driving home from work yesterday, it was apparent that the fields by the road were finally becoming water-logged, with puddles being visible for the first time in ages. In the bottom of the valley, the upper River Tove was appearing above its banks. This volume of water will continue to move downstream, to a confluence with the River Great Ouse near Cosgrove. From there, it's but a brief otter swim down the Ouse Valley to the flood plain where Hanson Environmental Study Centre is located. So we may yet see the water level raised to cover the bund, whether we like it or not. Presumably, any potential nesting waders would say "Knot". Ho ho ho, I wish.

Anyone else thinking "Hmmm, wasn't it a late 70s hit for Eruption?"
All this means that today I'm indoors, half-heartedly attending to administrative tasks and wondering where we are going to find several days of sunshine to kick off the dragonfly season. The sighting of a Large Red Damselfly in Wales on 3rd April, whilst we were on holiday, seems a long time ago.

The sky remains a steadfast, solid ceiling in various shades of undercoat grey. Occasionally, light levels rise for a few moments, bringing hope for serotonin lovers, before plunging again, like our vitamin D levels, into the dark brooding mire of liquified gloom.

Do you think that we Brits are, perhaps, too connected to our weather?


Martin said...

Possibly too connected, but it cuts down the options of what we ex-pats can talk about over coffee - "Sunny again" "Yup"; "Bit of wind though" "Mmm, might get a change in the plankton", "Just have to wait for the boat to get back in" "Ouie!" (translation: Yeah)

Imperfect and Tense said...

I'll admit that if you're out on the sea, weather ought to be near the top of the conversation list!