29th February from the West Cliff Green

The old lore calls it “February Fill-dyke”.  Meaning that during this month all the melting winter snow fills the ditches and rivulets to overflowing.  But this winter there has been no snow.  It has been intensely cold from time to time and the rain has seemed incessant at times. So the old name still holds good.  Everywhere on the West Cliff Green, there are dark puddles and deep, muddy water filled ruts at the sides of the paths where the Council vans have passed to and fro.  But the rain brings special delights in the glossy, mirror finish on the flat leaves of the rhododendrons that flash and glisten in the breeze, turning the dull grey light of the cloudy sky into something wonderful.  And there are the signs of spring.  Flower buds are forming on these bushes. Daffodils, violets, celandines and the white and green bells of the three-sided leeks which are our version of wild garlic and grow in profuse odorous carpets beneath the trees. Docks push up boldly through the wet grass. The sea shifts soothingly but the horizon has disappeared into the grey. Gorse bushes are covered in brilliant yellow flowers. The shelter has developed some new grafitti and the benches all stand forlorn. Robins and wrens keep up a constant chorus from the undergrowth. Magpies flit about their mysterious business from tree to tree while a crow has taken up its usual position on top of a lamp post as master of all he surveys. A gull sideslips neatly away down the cliff towards the sea.