2020 has seemed as though someone stopped the clock on time, or at the very least moved the hands at varying speeds at random moments. Please don’t expect me to know which day of the week it is. I actually have to work it out. Life has become like that grey area of time between Christmas and New Year, only for months at a time.

The only thing not on hold is nature. The seasons have changed as a marker of time passing. Nothing has stopped the progression of the life to be found in my garden. When we first went into lockdown in the UK, plants were just coming out of their winter dormancy, and now the air is full of the scent of honeysuckle and the buzz of bees.

Now the hint of lightening up on restrictions is hovering on the horizon. Unlike those who have seen this as a suggestion that there is nothing more to fear from this virus, I will be cautious. There is much to be enjoyed in countryside walks, or wandering over quiet beaches collecting shells, but I for one will still maintain a distance from others.

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