So much less and yet so much more

When there is so much more to be seen we record so much less, have you noticed? Even though I’ve decided to commit more to paper (or at least virtual paper) I’m so frightened I might miss something, I daren’t look at the keyboard. In the last couple of weeks the weather has got warmer, I’ve seen blackbirds fighting over territory and Hazel catkins have opened, glowed and gone brown.

All the crocuses I planted in the garden are out and I don’t know which day they first opened. I remember I noticed it the day the first daffodil opened but I didn’t write it in the diary so I can no longer tell you when it was. The wintry hedges have been revitalised with flashes of bright green hawthorn leaves and pale ghostly blackthorn flowers. Pussy willow catkins are showing their first silver fur and my neighbours ornamental plum has turned pink and frothy seemingly overnight.

Even though I work in an office in the country with a window overlooking paddocks, drive over the Malverns every morning and evening and apparently have more time than everyone else (I am employed part time) I miss things. I make it a habit to notice the world around me and yet sometimes it still spins away to appear reborn anew and different a couple of weeks later.

As I get older I find I’m not so afraid of missing seeing things; I carry a notebook and diary around with me. Now I’m just afraid of forgetting to write them down.