It really does feel like spring

It really does feel like spring.

I have to tell you that today bears an uncanny resemblance to Spring. Yes folks, when its spring again we'll sing again tulips from Manor House. Now that may be a complete exaggeration but there is a definite air and aura of the changing seasons. Years ago winters seemed to go on for so long that some of us began to lose track of time. The hours, weeks and months would drag their feet slowly and desultorily towards the early evening darkness, staggering, stumbling, puffing and panting their way towards the first glimmers of spring daylight. What a journey, what an exhausting marathon.

But here we are approaching the end of February- if not quite- and everything around us here in Manor House has a quiet orderliness about it. All of those howling, whistling winds seemed to have dropped and the day has a different orchestra about it. The woodwind and percussion section aren't quite as loud as they were, say, a couple of weeks ago and now all is still and content. Outside it feels as if all the cars, buses and lorries have left town for a while and may not be coming back again until at least next Monday.

Dare I say it but this morning has something of the August Bank Holiday about it. This is not to suggest that everybody has gone to the coast or seaside for the day. But there is a feeling of emptiness and solitude about Manor House. I think Manor House feels a horrible sense of abandonment. It may be  Friday here in Manor House but the roads look extremely sad and solitary. Maybe they could do with some company. The trouble though is I've no idea who to ask.

Anyway with spring just over a month away maybe this is the right time to look forward to a season of blossom and colour. The winter was, when all is said and done, moderately tolerable apart from  one or two icy blasts. But aside from one or two minor bouts of discomfort and the odd twinges we've all battled our way stoically through December and January without any major setbacks. There was a time when I didn't think I'd get through it all but this is February and I'd like to think that the weeks leading up to the first day of spring will be filled with vigorous health and renewed energy.

Next to us is the stunning and revelatory Woodbury Wetlands, a beautifully sculpted development that is almost too good to be true. Opened last year by the distinguished broadcaster David Attenborough, the Woodbury Wetlands is a natural wonder that if you didn't know you were in London, you'd swear was some breathtaking piece of countryside. But the Wetlands is situated in Manor House, a North London suburb. literally minutes away from the West End showbiz fraternity and the two are somehow compatible, almost meant for each other.

It is a huge, all encompassing bird sanctuary with a wonderful lake and hundreds of nature's most extraordinarily varied plants and flowers. Now is the time when Manor House begins to shakes off its dark foreboding and tries to open its eyes clearly. There is a refreshing beauty about that bright wintry sunlight that makes you feel that everything is just right. All of that grim December despondency and dampness has now been replaced by a mid February carnival of early spring colours.

I've yet to see those elusive tulips and the daffodils are quite happily snoring away in some hidden corner of Woodberry Wetlands. It may be that within the next couple of weeks the robins, starlings and the geese will all sweep down from warmer shores and take up temporary residence on British shores.  But for the time being all of those swans and ducks may have to wait for the chance to float  gracefully towards you at the first hint of bread from us.

On a run around Woodberry Woodlands some time last year I just happened to notice a whole family of geese next to the reservoir. One member of the family looked at me as if barely able to believe how slow I was. And yet the swan had given me the most admiring and supportive glance so this was all the incentive I needed to keep me going.

Every so often the Woodberry Wetlands just leaves you speechless and truly enraptured. Parties of butterfly watchers will carefully scribble down notes, all the while examining their discreet hideaways. Meanwhile another group will point their binoculars confidently towards a deeply attractive stretch of water that very rarely ripples and only seems to be disturbed when the ducks make their raucous presence felt.

Now I'm no naturalist  but I do know that Woodberry Wetlands is the most splendid and magnificent creation. I know we're still in February but my body feels as though it's been given an sharp injection of good feelings. It's time to look ahead rather than back because this is the time for putting down positive markers for a warm summer and a firm belief that we will get that much coveted heatwave. Mind you a summer without a single mention of Donald Trump and Brexit can only be laden with good cheer. We can but hope.