The seasons may be confused, but all the more reason to marvel

Iknow we are currently in that odd period between Christmas and New Year, when it’s difficult to tell whether it’s lunchtime or Tuesday, but can you please take a moment to peel yourself away from that box set or luscious hardback to spare a thought for the birds and the bees, the grasses and the trees.

The National Trust has issued its wildlife and weather report for 2017, and let me tell you it exudes just the level of sunny optimism we’ve come to expect from this very special year. That is to say, it’s massively confusing.

One of the loveliest things about living in Britain is that the passage of time is marked by our strongly distinctive seasons, with something new always to look forward to. Everything in its proper order.

Scratch that. Last year, we had a mild winter, a hot spring and a cold, wet summer. We were wearing shorts in April and parkas in August.

There were sightings of bumblebees in January, daffodils in February and dog roses in April. Storm Ophelia brought poisonous Portuguese Man of War to our shores in October. Atlantic bluefin tuna appeared in our warmer waters for the first time in 50 years.

While it’s been difficult for some species, it has been bonanza time for others. Glorious May weather made for an excellent nesting season and resulted in abundant spring insects. It was a great year for apples, berries and nuts. And at least the lousy wet summer ensured we had fabulous mushrooms this autumn.

Such bounty means it has not always been easy to feel as guilty about climate change as some would have us feel.

Of course, the knowledge that this was the year nature went haywire might make us want to redouble our efforts to minimise the detrimental effects we have on the planet. In the words of the late Maya Angelou: “I did then what I knew how to do. Now that I know better, I do better.”

What in the relatively recent past might have seemed cranky is now mainstream. Take, for example, drink driving. In the Sixties, having one or possibly three for the road was seen as slightly raffish. Then the first advertising campaign against drinking and driving (slogan: Don’t ask a man to drink and drive) chipped away at public acceptability. Now the very idea is anathema. Those who initially twisted their faces at spending 5p on a carrier bag now merrily clutch their bags for life to their bosom like long lost friends, and we used six billion fewer carriers in the year after the charge was introduced.

So we are all able to accept the times we live in as we attempt to tackle the impact of the long-lasting changes to our climate and environment.

But I see no harm in embracing the unexpected bounty the blurring seasons throw at us, with every early daffodil or rashly resplendent butterfly, with each chaffinch at the bird table and bumblebee thrusting itself down the striped tube of an impatiently blossoming broad bean.

In an odd way, seeing things outside of their natural season makes you appreciate them even more, like unexpectedly catching sight of your beloved on a crowded train or in the street. It makes you see them anew. Your pulse quickens, your pupils dilate, your mouth softens into a smile. And you are suddenly conscious of how much you would miss them if they were to cease to exist at all.