SHERINGHAM DIARY No 105 - Snowdrops in Walsingham

In the aftermath of seemingly endless assaults of storms and torrential rain, the rivers of England have protested by bursting their banks and spreading themselves far and wide across old flood plains, once thought moribund. Devasting homes and land to a point not seen since the deluges of biblical imagination.

And so it is, that even a small minnow like river such as the Stiffkey, that runs through Walsingham on its way to the sea marshes of Stiffkey itself, has transformed itself from a gentle and refined meandering into a surging swirl of taupe coloured mud.

Into this freakish swelling overwhelming moment, comes a more expected time of transformation, the blanketing of Walsingham Abbey's grounds with clump after clump of pure white snowdrops. And humankind of all ages and genders pay to wander through its archaic beauty. The first brightness, a glimmering at the end of winter,is now positively nigh.

It's a special time anyway, but this year the fresh water course that once brought monastics to build on this site, is swirling itself forcefully across the Abbey's grounds. Bringing an unknown drama to the starkly broken minimalism of window arches and buttress ruins, not perhaps seen for centuries. This was just one huge thrill of nature, thrusting and asserting its power to be manifesting in an unexpected form this time.