Easter Snow

The forecast is that it's likely to nudge, if not exceed 25° C (77° F) here on the south coast of England over the Easter weekend, before chilling off dramatically by Monday. My memories of previous Easter breaks are coloured by this typical variability in the weather, which is compounded by the fact that Easter is a "moveable feast": that is, one not falling on a fixed calendar date. In fact (pay attention at the back) Easter is very moveable indeed: it is celebrated on the first Sunday after the full moon after the vernal equinox, the so-called "Paschal full moon", which this year was also a "super moon" on 8th April, but which last year fell on 19th April, and can be as early as 21st March (but never earlier: the spring equinox being fixed, ecclesiastically-speaking, on 21st March). But, don't ask me why, it's complicated. Let's just say it's a cross-cultural mashup of astronomy, religious observance, and the fulfilment of certain Old Testament prophesies, all seasoned with a strong flavouring of calendrical inexactitude.

Add to this the fact that we have spent the last forty Easter breaks in mid-Wales, and the innate variability of weather and timing gets further complicated by geography. In hill country in spring you can expect any combination of snow, rain, fog, and solar radiation strong enough to give you sunburn: it's just part of the package at lambing time, often all within the same day. This particular set of photographs were taken in 2013, when Easter Sunday fell on 31st March, the best part of two weeks earlier than this year. It had snowed quite heavily the week before we arrived, and remained "deep and crisp and even" in sheltered pockets, despite strong sunshine. This was a relatively light dusting, however: in a previous year a post van had become stuck in a massive drift blocking the lane just beyond our rented barn-conversion, the postie having foolishly decided to ram his way through.

I don't think there'll be snow in Wales this coming week, where we would have been were it not for you-know-what, but you can never be sure. Although I can be pretty confident in predicting there won't be any here in Southampton, way down south and a mere 80 feet or so above sea-level. We haven't even had any winter to speak of this year: I think I scraped frost off the car windscreen twice. Looking at the forecast, I may yet have to break out the shorts and sandals.