Before summer hit us with a bang, it had been a long, cold spring here in east Suffolk. For weeks we had nothing but a nagging north-easterly wind that drove banks of cheerless grey cloud inland from the North Sea. We call it a ‘lazy wind’ in these parts: “That dunt goo round yer boi, that goo straight thru yer.”
While western areas basked under blue skies and warm sunshine, we shivered along the east coast. But the unseasonable chill did at least enable us to hold on to the May blossom for far longer than normal. Right up to the end of the month, the countryside was in her bridal gown, with cascades of white dripping from the hawthorns matched by the lacy trim of cow parsley and nodding stitchwort along the lanes and hedgebanks.
