Summer at last

I was told they were holding a jazz evening in the marquee where we’d been last weekend and a few boats were going for the evening.   Why didn’t I join them? I’m not a fan of jazz and I’d only just travelled on that bit of river. Also I’d spent the last ten days going to The Fens, to London and even to Bournemouth and back, or moving the boat around so I was looking forward to a weekend tending the portion of riverbank that I call my garden.  So when they said ‘why don’t you join us?’ I said ‘OK what time are you leaving?’  We set off in the late afternoon sunshine for an entirely uneventful journey, nobody burst into flame, nobody got stuck in reeds, the wind didn’t push us all over the place. It would have been boring if the EA hadn’t opened a sluice gate, letting through an extremely powerful flow of water just where I needed to turn the boat.  That made life interesting for a few minutes.  There wasn’t jazz in the marquee, just a singer in the bar, but as I don’t like jazz that was OK by me.

On Sunday morning the sky was a clear blue and a cuckoo called from the trees across the open fields.  The scent of May blossom was strong in the air.  The river was busy with cruisers and canoeists and the long awaited signs of summer made everybody cheerful and it was a delight to be out.

Today I got down to flourishing the strimmer and trying to establish some order on my plot but the high grass is dense with buttercups and dandelions and the cow parsley lines the walkway to the boat.  I don’t want to chop the flowers and grasses down (even if the strimmer was capable of such feats). I can’t destroy the cow parsley or the dandelions because I remember from my childhood  that if I pick cow parsley my mother will die and if I pick dandelions I’ll pee the bed.  I wonder where those childish beliefs come from?  It is well known that dandelion roots are a diuretic but is cow parsley deadly to mothers? Or is cow parsley only deadly to mothers on a far flung council estate in Hull?

Tonight the sun has set leaving trails of colours in the clear sky and over the still river. The fish are making ever  increasing circles on the water as they jump for the insects on the surface and three terns are diving for fish.  The fence opposite is invisible in the fading light but its reflection remains clear on the polished surface of water.  It was worthwhile braving all that mud and cold and dark over the winter to be here now.