Fickle February - with its warm, dry, sunny days, spring bulbs bursting into flower and birds already beginning to pair up, it was trying hard to lure us into the belief that we were in for a very early spring.

However, the arrival earlier this month of bitterly cold winds, rain, sleet and snow, was a very sharp reminder that winter had not finished with us yet.

I was thankful that I was temporarily excused dog-walking duties as others struggled out into the cold and wet.

The Hunts Post: Tommy the farm terrier digging up Spring bulbs.Tommy the farm terrier digging up Spring bulbs. (Image: Richard Cranwell)

 

I did feel slightly guilty as I watched people battle the elements in the street below, whilst I remained warm and snug, behind hospital windows, but must confess that it did not last long.

The appalling weather brought any field work that was still outstanding on the farm to a complete halt.

According to Rob’s rain gauge, we had two inches of rain over a couple of days and nights.

However, whilst everyone else was busy muttering about the return of winter, there was one very happy farmer in Hail Weston.

Having endured weeks of teasing about causing the February drought because of his insistence on installing rainwater harvesting tanks on the farm, and retaining his faith in British weather, Rob finally felt vindicated as a deluge of water poured off the roofs of the farm buildings, filling his tanks rapidly.

When the rain first began to fall, Rob could be seen, frequently nipping out between the showers to tap the tanks, gleefully listening as the sound changed from a hollow, ringing echo to a very satisfying, dull thud as the water level rose.

Rainwater is especially good when it is used for spraying farm crops as there is no need to put in an additive, which we must if we use tap water. With the new tanks now full, we should have sufficient rainwater in store to meet all our spraying needs for the next twelve months.

With little to do on the rain-soaked farm at present, Rob has taken on the role of housekeeper whilst I recover from surgery.

As I rummaged through a plethora of paperwork that was handed to me on discharge from hospital, I discovered that I held a winning ticket because hidden amongst it, writ large in black and white, were the immortal words, “No housework for six week," Perfect!