A cancellation or postponement of a punishment.
That's Google's definition of reprieve. The punishment here I am talking about is the rain. I know this blog has been dominated by the weather but April has been beyond unbelievable keeping me stuck indoors. I am so far behind with the vegetable gardening, I fear I am going to have to rely on the supermarket for salads this year. But fair play, there has been a 24 hour gap in the down pour, just enough time to mow the lawn, admire the tulips, wear a short-sleeved top and pink shoes and for the kids to have ice cream cornets for their after-school snack. The cats have appreciated a little warmth on their soft ginger and white fur, rolling on warm paving slabs covering their winter-heavy coats in little seeds and debris on the wind. The snails have been removed from the plants and transported to their snail hotel (ie flung over the fence), the washing had an attempt at drying outside and tiny purple shoots are poking their way out of the trays of compost, the promising warmth of the day encouraging them to do so.
It feels like this summer has been a long time coming, it's like we are being teased ever so gently with hints of the days to come. But the anticipation can be as good as the real thing, like the Friday night to a weekend, a journey to an airport, Christmas eve, the last day of term or a flower in bud. So I am trying very hard to enjoy the anticipation, revel in the excitement that we are so close to days spent in flip-flops with multiple sun cream applications.