By ‘C’:
“We’ll
especially need to keep moving and keep warm,” declared the session leader, contemplating
today’s weather forecast.
She was
right. Keeping on the go tends to be
what we do at Green Gym anyway. Embraced
by north-easterlies at this time of year, however, on an exposed stretch of
riverbank – also wondering what exactly the forecasters meant by “light snow”
to come – it was all the more needful to stay active.
The light
breeze was, of course, from Siberia: that vast landmass where “100 roubles
is
not money, 1,000 kilometres is no distance, and half a litre of vodka is no
drink.”
(Eric Newby – In the Land of Genghis
Khan, 1978.)
 |
| Genuine Russian Army hat worn by one volunteer this morning |
As for the ‘promised’ snow: the first
feathery flakes had been floating on the air the previous morning, when I
walked to conventional gym; and again at tea-time, when I gazed smugly at what
the weather was doing from inside a nice snug kitchen. On the whole, Monday afternoon’s show looked
like an illustration for these oft-quoted lines:
On the wind in FebruarySnowflakes float still,Half inclined to turn to rain,Nipping, dripping, chill.(Christina Rossetti – A Year’s Windfalls, 1866)
A further dusting
of snow after dark plus modest temperatures overnight (a low of -5.8 C) had left
garden flowers feeling rather sorry for themselves by dawn, and given the
village the appearance of some crazy paving:
The ground
was rather firmer than last time we convened at this particular spot:
Conditions
still not quite the stuff of Weather Warnings?
Tho’ to be fair to the Met Office, they had pretty quickly reduced the Amber
alert for our location: from ‘Tues-Wed’ to ‘Tuesday’. [Don’t
they know Tuesdays are WGG mornings? – Ed.]
Then they dropped it altogether for this area – for the first part of
the week anyway.
Distance
travelled by me this morning, from home to RV point: minimal. [As the crow flies, must be all of 300
metres. – Ed.] And no vodka at
tea-break! OTOH, Green-Gym sessions
remain free of charge.
The main exercise
which was going to keep us warm, was to continue the bank-stabilisation task
begun last month: adding in the last
few bits of willow; and, to secure them, hammering in the stakes we had pointed
on the previous occasion. The river
level had fallen to a point where it would be much easier for us to do that now;
still had to be treated with caution, though.
[It looks so quiet, but my oh my, the sheer weight of water demands
respect. – Ed.]
Loading the van
with the willow cuttings not used last time, was interesting:
This arrangement
may have looked precarious, but apart from the fact that the vehicle was not
going to be taken on to a public road in this state, the site-warden also had a
strap to secure the load. It worked.
There was no
wall of sound to accompany our efforts.
Just the occasional woodpecker drumming/hammering with its own beak; and the equally distinctive, bone-shaking clatter of a Chinook low overhead. [The NATO-forces helicopter, that is, not the weather phenomenon. – Ed.]
Also on the
slate were some odd jobs, including re-attaching a fencing rail which had come
adrift, and cutting back bramble from beside a gateway:
The ‘clipboard
of power’ was held by the session leader, who afterwards had been
going to travel straight from site, for 24 hours, to a part of England which does not look awfully spring-like at the moment,
hoping that roads would be gritted, and traffic sensible. [In fact, decided not to undertake that journey. Meantime the ‘ghost’ had already set to work
on this week’s blog, and got the green light to continue. – Ed.] It was said session leader who
suggested that tea-break should be held on the bank beside the river. Much warmer.
Much prettier backdrop.
(In the
background, right: Wallingford Rowing Club.
Behind: tower of St Leonard’s Church – the churchyard there is another site
we visit occasionally.)
After the
break, as other tasks were completed, volunteers made their way over to beside Wallingford Bridge. There we made a
start on a ditch which had silted up to the point where it was barely recognizable
as a drainage-line:
Although it
had been flagged up as potentially “a bit of a mucky job”, Green-Gymmers got
dug in pretty quickly:
(Re-)discovering
that in places the bottom of the ditch had been lined with concrete, to make a
sort of half-pipe, made life very
much easier for us. As indeed did the
fact that the earth was not claggy, because it was still half-frozen.
From half-underground,
down in the ditch one could even spot the occasional womble wombling by:
Litter-picking
is not something we do very often. Like
wombles, however, Green-Gymmers “are organized: work as a team.” So relays of volunteers took over the task of
the digging, as others relaxed and looked back at where we had been:
(Note womble-pile
in the background.)
By session
end, we knew the answer to one question. When would it start even trying to snow here again? Answer: 12:40 pm. The merest flicker of a snow shower, but sufficient for volunteers who have joined us more recently, to be able to say that they are now fully-fledged Green-Gymmers: they have done Green Gym in the snow.
Also by session end: however warm we may have remained, several of us might well have been feeling we agreed with sentiments
expressed by two famous English women of letters.
First, that
digging ditches is jolly hard work.
the grettest labour and the hardest traveyle that is ... delve and dike and swinke and swete and turne the erth up and down, and seke the depnesse, and water the plantes in time.(Julian of Norwich)Roughly translated from Middle English: “the hardest work ever … digging and ditching, straining and sweating, turning over the earth, and seeking the depths; and giving the vegetation the right amount of water at the right time.” – In this case, not exposing the meadow to excess, also polluted, run-off from the road, especially in winter.
Second, that
however much winter conditions may make some Green-Gym jobs easier, this season
may have slightly outstayed its welcome?
If the winter ever ends
How pleasant it will be.(Christina Rossetti)
