Puddle jumping

A wet January in Devon. Finding joy and embracing the elements.

Yet another Met office weather warning for rain. An upgraded alert from yellow to amber.

“Rain, rain, go away, come again another day”. I playfully recite this with the children at work, but underneath my anxiety is kicking in, triggering my nervous system. As an outreach worker, where driving is part of my job, the weather and travel can unsettle me.

I’m fortunate to live in Devon, a beautiful county in the south west of England. Rolling hills, and a stunning coastline, a large part of the area is rural. On a beautiful summers day it can be idyllic, but in the winter, with the county’s close proximity to the Atlantic and an active jet stream, it can be notoriously wet. With the impacts of climate change now increasingly affecting us, milder and wetter winters are becoming the norm here.

Devon’s country roads and lanes are narrow, with high hedges that give the land it’s patchwork pattern. Meeting a vehicle coming the other way can be tricky, as there is often only one way forward…and that usually involves going back! After more than thirty years of driving I feel like I have mastered the art of Devon lanes, but add into the mix, potholes and heavy rain, and the morning commute can be tough.

It feels like the rain has been incessant this January. The trickling brook at the bottom of our garden has been rushing and roaring. The local river has burst it’s banks, turning the fields muddy and brown. I step outside to refill the bird feeders, and can feel that the ground is sodden. I don’t think the land can soak up much more.

The clouds have held this morning, but they are laden and heavy. Storm Chandra is approaching later this afternoon. In the pause before the deluge, I take a brief walk around the village.

There is a fresh wind picking up and I realise I have left my hat at home. The cold wind hurts my ears. The skeletal trees blow, the reflections of the branches spread like capillaries in the puddles below. The lanes feel stark and bare, absent of colour, a simple palette of greens and browns. Vibrant green moss on a wall stands out, hydrated by all the rain we’ve had.

Despite the bleakness, there are glimmers of change. The days feel like they are getting slightly longer, a few more moments of light each day. Snowdrops are beginning to push through the damp earth, and nearer to the coast, the first of the daffodils are beginning to flower. On the trees, small dark buds silhouette themselves against leaded skies. The changes are subtle and slow, often hidden behind the weather, which is currently in full attention seeking mode. But the changes are there when you look a little closer. Observing. Noticing.

It is very easy to wish away the winter. But this year, I am trying to accept and embrace it. To relook at it in a positive frame. To notice the beauty in the grey skies and the way the clouds sometimes rush across the horizon. To stop and listen to the gentle patter of raindrops on my umbrella as I walk down the street. To notice the elements on my skin, my bitterly cold hands, raw and red after scraping the ice off the car. Welcoming gentle warmth on my face when the sun makes a rare appearance. Appreciating the smell of damp grass as I walk through a muddy field and then returning home to a warm house, and the smell of cooked food.

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On a very wet day last week, I visited a four year old child in school. He was very keen to go outside and splash in a very large puddle that had gathered on the playground. He quickly found his wellies and coat, and I joyfully watched him as he headed straight into the puddle with a big smile on his face. He beckoned to me to follow but I pointed to my shoes, saying I didn’t have my boots with me. Another teacher noticed, and before long she’d found me a spare pair of wellies and I joined him splashing in the muddy puddles. It was pouring with rain at this point, I was cold and getting very wet, but the joy on this child’s face was worth far more than my damp socks.

Sometimes we just need to look at the world through the eyes of a child. Reframe the picture. Look at it in a different way. Embrace the seasons. Even in the depths of winter, when the world feels grey, damp and cold, there is life… beautiful life. We just need to look a little closer.

And jumping in puddles is highly recommended too! x