Down the hill from where we live is the little Hamlet of Washpool - so named on account of an old stone-lined basin worked into the course of the stream which, in former times, served as a sheep dip.
We walked down there last night, on the way to the woods, to find a group of our neighbours, well-spaced apart and working together, clearing the ground of brambles and other thinnings and heaping them onto a large billowing fire.
Today is the Spring (or Vernal) Equinox, Ostara in the Wiccan calendar — traditionally a time to celebrate the end of winter and the promise of warmer days. On the face of it, nothing would seem more at odds with the frightening plague that promises to change all of our lives.
We have it easy here — so far. The virus seems far away, like the sound of distant thunder. It will touch us eventually. Right now we watch the thick smoke spiralling from the fire and exchange smiles of encouragement.
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