When the Met Office predicted a ‘barbecue summer’ this year they were giving a hostage to fortune, and reality has visited savage retribution on them. If the public were sceptical about the ability of scientists to warn us about climate change before this debacle, they are now downright scornful.
The climate seems to be as unpredictable as it ever it was, but the natural progression of the seasons is not so capricious, nor are computer models required to tell us what is in store. As the gradual – or occasionally dramatic – warming of spring leads into the holiday season, our expectations – or hopes at least – grow ever more optimistic; will this be one of those truly memorable summers? And later, as the days begin to shorten noticeably, and leaves turn from rich green to brown, we know that soon the trees will once again be bare poles outlined against a cold sky, with morning frosts and the chance of a flurry of sleet or snow in a passing shower not too far away. Then, as the cold months near their end, the first signs of growth in sheltered spots reassures us that the whole cycle will start again.
There is a point in the passage of the seasons that always makes a deep impression on me, Continue reading »
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