The temperature has been mild enough these past few days to sleep outside with no ill consequences. I am sick of being cooped up in the prefab. The rush at earliest light to get out before the builders arrive, the dust and stale air of it and to be honest the site and sight of the block going up. Flats. Inappropriate for the small plot that used to be home to warblers, weasel and flycatchers even though it was bang in the middle of Selkirk.
I am testing myself. After a spell unwell last year, walking any distance is like swimming. My body feels all wrong in the air. Small slopes I would have ignored last year seem to go on forever. Flies hatching early and giddy in the warm temperature have seemed an obstacle. I have often had to stop to let them pass.
However now I can see the buds forming on the trees. I have promise of work in a big wood planting. And thanks to my writing a commitment to my living in the bothy there, keeping an eye on things in every sense.
So I get to be official. And once I stagger over and up there, I should be able to bring you the spring.