Blogger is still being funny about recording stats backwards. I hope it cures itself soon, because it makes me wonder what else is going wrong in Bloggerland.
It came home to me over the weekend that writing is a very solitary world and in real life often no one else is interested in it. Which is why, I suppose, there are so many writing groups on the internet. We need to share with someone and finding people who are interested in the same thing is often only possible electronically. Which is quite sad, in a way, and a blessing in others.
It was the first day of spring yesterday. The daffodils and snowdrops are flowering and finally, finally, the land is drying up and wellies are not the only option on walks. Strangely enough, though we've had so much wet weather over the last three months, the streams and the river are running quite low.
It is easy to see where huge chunks of the river bank have been washed away and there is as much sand deposited on the grass down by the riverside as there is at Redcar beach. As one lady dog-walker said, kicking at the sand beneath her feet, "I'll bring my deckchair next week." Tiny grass blades are pushing their way through but in some places the sand has buried it altogether. The dogs love it because it gives them a lovely smooth, clean surface to run on. It's only when you look to the shrubs and bushes that you see the lumps of vegetation, branches and tree trunks matted together in huge piles.