The Perils of a Polar March.

March is daffodil month in lowland Britain. They might come early or they might come late, but there are always daffodils in March. My garden is full of daffodils, and it should be awash with yellow blooms by now. March has less than thirty six hours left and there’s no yellow yet, not a single flower. Some of the plants are still lying flattened under what's left of the snow deposited by last week’s blizzard. Maybe there are some in bloom lower down nearer the river, but I never venture down there in daylight these days. A March without daffodils would seem like there’s a month been taken out of the calendar and put aside to lie barren.

What concerns me more, though, are the bats. They must surely need to be waking up soon and taking food, but bats fly at night. We’ve had a week of sub-zero night temperatures, and are forecast to have more of the same until at least the middle of next week. Last night it was -8°C (18°F.) I’m not sure how bats would fare in temperatures like that, and I doubt there are any flying insects to feed on anyway. It pains me to think that some of them might be facing starvation if Britain stays trapped in this polar air much longer. I like bats. I do.