Mothering Sunday in lockdown

The day started like any other but it wasn’t just another day. Mother’s Day in lockdown has come around once again. The first time it was all new, the strict rules meant the presents had to be dropped off at the doorstep. The day still fresh in my mind. It was a beautiful sunny day. The pandemic had been declared a few days previously. We didn’t know what we were getting ourselves into. A year on and the picture is clearer, but the end is still not quite within reach. 

The sun came out but didn’t look its happiest. The blossoms are making their appearances and to miss a walk means missing out on spring sights as the days progress. I listen to my favourite podcast of the moment as I walk my regular paths. ‘Fortunately’ on BBC sounds. Two of my favourite broadcasters having a conversation. The topics discussed turn into jovial natter, I burst out laughing and come back down to earth every now and again. The chill in the air and gusts of brisk wind makes the walk a bit more demanding than usual. The carpets of miniature daffodils lining the grass verge near the duck pond is now in full bloom. The spire of our local parish church forms the background while the willow trees mark the boundary of the pond. The willow branches wistfully sway in the wind, the lowest ones almost reaching the pond. From here they keep a watchful eye on the ducks and geese peacefully gliding on the pond waiting for the first visitors of the day. The reeds lining the pond form a barrier shielding the wildfowl from straying onto the churchyard. A toy patrol bike lay abandoned in the pond. I can imagine the child’s cries as his prized possession rolled into the pond. Was getting it out and cleaning it too much an effort for his parents or was it deliberately thrown in. Littering and fly tipping, banes of our lives and a blight on our countrysides. 

The blossoms mark the beginnings of Spring. Streets lined with cherry blossoms ranging in tone from white to dark pink, grass verges dotted with crocuses and rows of daffodils, blackthorn hedgerows sprouting white flowers, the winter hibernation is over. The birds are getting excited, their chirps getting louder. I should put my earphones away and listen to nature, but the banter makes me feel like I am amongst friends. When I get back, the children are waiting with their home made cards. Lakshmi has bought a bunch of daffodil buds for me. Lavinia runs up and gives me her usual warm hug. Kavitha and Huw have brought some pub takeaway food. We could have had that picnic in the garden if the weather was on our side but that will have to wait. It’s been a long time since we’ve enjoyed a Sunday roast. The children run around. Their shrieks and screams getting louder as they play and argue with each other. I take my time and enjoy the roast. It isn’t just any other day, it is Mothering Sunday, I sit back and make the most of it. 

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