Spring. She's such a tease.

She turned to the sunlight and shook her yellow head, and whispered to her neighbour: "Winter is dead."

Spring. Oh Spring.

I will remain optimistic about you; we do live in England after all. And us Brits really do love to commentate about the weather and the changes of the seasons...#comeonspring and #springishere blah blah blah... 

BBC's Carol's friendly morning updates greet me every day, flitting from news about "glorious sunshine in the East" (yes- come on!) to "gusty winds" and "squally showers". But seriously, can Spring just decide to come out and stay out?! Enough of this teasing now, please! My legs are going from purple and blotchy to a tanned, healthy glow, and then to something similar to plucked turkey. 

Working outdoors you experience it all. On those cold, frozen days I've slipped over onto my numb behind so many times, followed by swiftly jumping up and glancing to the side to see if anyone saw - forgetting that there is a huge clue smeared all over the back of me... Then you get the days that literally fill you up with so much joy and lust for life that you could burst; blue skies, a 20 degree heat and a gentle breeze is a blissful climate for weaving. And when a brilliant song comes on the radio, you just can't beat it; ...The Beatles 'Here comes the sun', T Rex 'I love to boogie', Spice Girls 'Wannabe', Paul Simon 'Graceland' and Ottis Redding 'Sittin' on the dock of the bay'. 

This week, however, I have pulled my layers back out from the back of the cupboard and run up the hill on my morning walk to get the blood back into my toes... and now I'm suffering from a stuffy cold. 

Photos taken during March...

Imogen Radford