After a grey, grim old day yesterday, we have blue skies and signs of spring here in West Dorset.
There’s mud everywhere and it’s squelchy underfoot but the many puddles are reflecting the changing of the seasons.
We’re not there yet but it won’t be long.
On my morning walk, I glanced up when I heard the corvid call of rooks building nests in the tall trees in the copse.
And then a deer scuttled through the undergrowth.
‘The longer days are coming,’ said my farmer friend as he came down the hill from the community shop with his newspaper under his arm.
“But I fancy the daffodils are a bit early.”
I met a man in the lane who I thanked for his expertise in the community pub the other night when our very own Celebrity Farmer and his sidekick regaled the gathered throng with tales from their escapades on the Channel 4 show, Hunted.
(They should have done Bake Off.)
The man in the lane had provided his sound and vision expertise for the talk, which was just as well because the place was packed and none of us would have been able to hear it otherwise.
He told me he’s going to be at the village hall next weekend to help when I put on an archive film show as part of a project recording the memories of older people born and bred here in Lush Places.
It’s people like him who quietly get on with helping others who are the unsung heroes among us.
The international stage is a frightening place and there are personal situations all around where people are suffering.
But to be dragged down by all of that means the extinguishing of hope. We have to celebrate the small big things that make a difference.
I thought about all the volunteers in our pub who are keeping it going while we interview for a new manager. I thought about the volunteers in the shop who man the till.
The people who run the village hall, the people who keep our lovely church up and running, the people who lock and unlock the gate everyday on the multi-use games pitch, the people who listen to children reading at school and those who give up their time to look after our communal open spaces.
So many people, in small and big ways, doing their bit and keeping the community from coming unstuck.
To steal a well-known slogan, every little helps. And it really does.
Maddie Grigg 