Do you know, sometimes I get really confused. Just when I think I understand something, someone comes along and tells me it’s different from what I thought.
Take Spring, for example. I always thought it started on March 21st (or September 21st if you’re one of my many friends who live in the Southern Hemisphere) when the sun’s directly overhead at the Equator and everywhere on Earth is supposed to have an equal amount of time between sunrise and sunset.
I decided to check this out on a website that shows the sunrise and sunset times for lots of places in the UK, including our village. And to my surprise I found that it’s not true. The day that came nearest to having 12 hours between sunrise and sunset wasn’t March 21st this year. Instead it was March 18th, when the sun rose in our village at 06.15 and set at 18.16…
…while on March 21st it rises at 06.08 and sets at 18.22…
And, if that isn’t confusing enough, a few years back the weather-forecasters decided Spring started on March 1st …
and, to make it even worse, Mum’s just told me that this year the Equinox was on March 20th – at 09.37 to be exact. (Honestly, she’s not been the same since she first saw Professor Brian Cox on television.)
But whenever the Equinox was, I’m sure Spring’s here now. Though me and Mum have only been out of the village twice in the last year because of all the lockdowns, I know the daffodils are in bloom already and I can see the first hint of green coming back on the trees down here in the valley…
The birds are busy building their nests and starting to sing again…
…and, if I look out of the window of Mum’s workroom in the loft, I can see the Mrs Sheeps up on the hillside with their new lambs.
One evening last week when me and Mum were washing up in the kitchen we saw the bats swooping about catching insects down our back street for the first time this year.
And the hedgehogs are slowly coming out of hibernation and visiting our garden again.
But in the middle of the winter I had a Very Strange Visitor indeed. It was early one morning and I was in the bathroom, brushing my teeth over the wash-basin. The water was so cold that I’ll swear there were bits of an iceberg rattling about in it…
Then all of a sudden a penguin popped its head out of the tap, had a quick look round and went back again.
I could hardly believe my eyes, but when I told Mum she said I’d imagined it, as there aren’t any penguins in Yorkshire, except in zoos and aquariums.
I was a bit upset at that as I was sure I’d seen one. Then a couple of days later we had some snow.
I put my best red hat and jumper on – to make sure everyone would see me if I accidentally fell over – and went out into the garden to build a snowbear.
Unfortunately there wasn’t enough snow for me to do that, but there was enough for the birds to have left footprints when they’d been looking for food – and just look what I found in the middle of them all…
Now if they’re not penguin footprints, then I don’t know what are!
I was so excited that I jumped with joy – then slipped and fell over in the snow. But luckily only my pride was hurt and I was soon up on my feet again…
And now it’s the start of Spring in the Northern Hemisphere and, as the weather is starting to get a bit warmer, I hope my penguin managed to get back home safely. I also hope you’ll all enjoy the new season, whether you’re going in to Spring or in to Autumn. Take care and stay safe – and I’ll tell you some more tales soon!
Follow my next blog: 136. MY MUM THE STORY-TELLER – PART THIRTY
22/03/2021
Wilf the bear-faced blogger 