Actually, sumer is on its way out

But there’s no need to be doomy. This morning Betty was halfway through teaching her first Pilates lesson and it was still pitch-black outside. The nip in the air is starting to hang about for morning tea. It’s still brilliantly sunny in the afternoons, but in a crisper sort of way. It puts Betty in mind of this mediaeval song, which reminds her, however illogically, of good things like Morris dancing and strawberries and Professor Marshall Walker.

Svmer is icumen in
Lhude sing cuccu!
Groweþ sed and bloweþ med
and springþ þe wde nu.
Sing cuccu!

Awe bleteþ after lomb,
lhouþ after calue cu,
Bulluc sterteþ, bucke uerteþ.
Murie sing cuccu!
Cuccu, cuccu,
Wel singes þu cuccu.
ne swik þu nauer nu!
Sing cuccu nu, Sing cuccu!

And cuckoos, of course.