We happen to live in an area of hills and dales and the result of this is that the weather varies mile by mile. Quite often I speak to my friend early in the morning and she comments on the rain pouring down the window, or heavy snow falling, whereas where I am, about three miles away, the sun is shining. The difference is that her village is considerably higher than ours is.
Walking through our Post Office this afternoon I noticed a newspaper headline in one of today's papers which said something along the lines of the worst storm in fifty years or somesuch was coming our way this afternoon. At the time it was quite a pleasant sunny though breezy afternoon here.
Then on our evening news I saw where a small child was blown into the sea in his pushchair by a giant freak gust of wind. Only the incredibly brave actions of a man on the shore, and the wonderful mouth-to-mouth resuscitation of a passer by, saved the life of this little lad. Fierce storms in one place, quite calm, pleasant conditions in another - and all in what is after all a relatively small island.
Yesterday our rivers and becks were all in flood following a rapid thaw and sadly a man in his thirties was drowned in a canoeing accident. And this in a beck which usually is a gentle trickle into the River Swale.
Our fields are soaking wet again after the thaw. The rooks (one of my favourite birds as my regular readers will know) are blackening over every field in their search of the newly cleared grass - suddenly there are grubs and worms to be had and they are taking full advantage of it. So are the blackbirds who have deserted my feeders and gone out into the hedgerows to scratch about for bugs - by far their favourite food.
I shall look at the weather forecast, as I do every night. But I shall also bear in mind that what is happening here is probably quite different from what is happening ten miles up or down the road.