Drip, drip
Rain on the windscreen and it’s not looking good. The trees have all long since shed their loads of snow, but not in the gorgeous sloughing off their winter coat that happens under the first blue skies and sunny days of spring, but with the soggy, heavy greyness of warm south-westerlies that also soak the air with moisture sucked up out of the snowpack. Low cloud, mist, sleet and an all pervading dampness. Southern Finland looks monochrome, white snow in the fields, brown dull forests behind them. We drive westward getting sprayed with muddy water from every truck we overtake on the new motorway.
Yesterday had been perfect – bright sun, a cloudless sky, the deep snowpack in the forest soaked but gleaming in the sunlight. We had stumbled down into a steep-sided and shaded valley and found fat ice against a steep little cliff. It was soft in the above freezing temperatures and easy to climb, yielding to first time swings of the ice tools. The birds chirped in the trees, enjoying the warm sun as much as we were. But Sunday is dawning damp and miserable.
The countryside is full of the sound of dripping and occasionally small pieces of ice drop off from the cliff and crash to the forest floor, but at the top of one of the climbs we can hear another rhythmic sound - the high speed tap-tap-tap of a woodpecker. I spot him high above at the very top of tall dead tree. I can see black and white and he looks to be a good size from a distant - so at a guess, a Great Spotted Woodpecker. Just as we are about to leave the cliff there are strange noises echoing down the valley, and then a flight of huge swans - pure white and in perfect line formation sweep past us. We can easily hear the beating of their wings even from 100 metres away. It's grey and dank and dripping, but the climbing and company has been good and the signs of spring and tapping and honking all around us. Even when it's not a nice day to be outside, it is often still nice to be outside - if you see what I mean.
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