Thurso II (Donald Thomson): Week 11 – 15 April

Late last week, I stepped out of the front door and thought, “This is what Spring is supposed to feel like.”  Warm, sunny, with a bracing balmy breeze from the south.  The hours of daylight are longer.  The sun is brighter and higher in the sky, rising from the sea to gild the houses, trees, and fields.  Snowdrops have bloomed and faded, taking advantage of the unshaded light under trees, and avoiding the heat of summer.  Blackbirds are trilling their hearts out as the day breaks, unseen larks are broadcasting in the welkin.  Wintering birds have flown to their breeding grounds, and geese are migrating. There’s a whiff of long summer days and short sleepless nights in the offing, warm zephyrs instead of arctic blasts, gentle rain instead of sudden downpours, bright blooms and the scent of newly mown lawns.  All things to anticipate.

Caithness Potholes

There was an article in the paper last week titled “The vorfreude secret”.  With a subtitle containing “ways to fill your life with joy”, my interest was piqued.  Everyone can use some joy now and again.  I read on.  ‘Vorfreude’ translates as ‘anticipation of joy’.  The article details many little ways to do this, from looking forward to your morning cup of coffee to scheduling an activity you enjoy.  Perhaps my interpretation isn’t an accepted one.  For instance, what about that list of things to do.  Everyone has one.  Why not, instead of dreading all those little and large tasks, look forward to getting them done?  And anticipate the sense of accomplishment?  That small shift in attitude immediatlely lightened some of the burden away.

An oft-delayed item on my list of reminders is to prune the rose bushes in front of the house.  It’s been put off for years.  In February or March, when they start to show signs of growth, it’s too cold.  Later in the year, it’s too cold again.  There never seems to be a ‘right’ time to get into the garden. However, because the pruning hasn’t been done for so long, and the weather was sparklingly sunny with a warm wind, the next day those roses were pruned.  One had shoots approaching six feet tall; it is now closer to three and a half. A philadelphus of similar height was also trimmed to a smaller size.   It only took an hour, including compressing the twigs into the garden waste bins.  Indeed, there was a sense of accomplishment, of something dreaded being done, of knowing it needn’t be done again soon. And there was the unanticipated bonus of being able to see out the lounge windows.

Spring Tides

Another petite fillip was reaching the top of the back of the gansey.  The anticipated pattern can now be fully seen.  Even a busy morning volunteering at the museum has done wonders for its growth.  The ridge and furrow shoulder straps come next, and then the back will be completed.

Crushed Raspberry and Breton