Hearing the cuckoo has always been a bit of a tradition in my family. My Grandma and Grandad always used to enjoy listening to the arrival of the cuckoo, where they lived, as it announced the start of the Spring.
Jo and I heard the cuckoo again, in the same place, while running on Tuesday.
When I related the happy news to my dad, he was inspired to go and hear it for himself. Despite sending him detailed directions to the correct fields, and even texting a grid reference (which was recieved with much derision) he has now been to visit four times and not heard the elusive, teasing bird.
The usual "rule" for the club summer pub runs, is that the person who lives nearest to the chosen pub of the week, leads the route.
Anti-social annoyed me on Wednesday, by turning up to my most local pub and taking over the navigation and organisation of the run. I submitted to his desire to be in charge, if a bit grumpily.
It was a lovely sunny evening with a bit of a wind. You can't remain grumpy when you have such lovely woods and hills to run amongst. Unfortunately my phone quickly died,so I only got a couple of photos.
The sun came out at northern tea time, just in time for Kildwick Fell Race. I ran from home and enjoyed the signs of spring. The lambs (which are already getting fat) were out, and the swallows were swooping along the river.
Well it's taken a while for the world to begin to wake up but the leaves and blossom are now slowly filling the valley with colour. Although the weather seems to be persisting with the winter theme. I think the brocoli and cauliflower plants at the allotment may have been frosted.
As is often the case my running has been blipped by various things, such as a holiday in Portugal (very rainy), a week of a cold and a weekend away with old friends
I've been back to it this week and inbetween the raindrops I remembered how great it is to run around on the grass, looking at the views.