Leaden lumps of rain pour down from slate grey clouds upon a lake of blackened water. On its surface dance a thousand diamond coronets. Here and there, flashes of silver as fish leap, jump, and frolic with delight in the in the sudden frantic deluge.
A swan, head held high swims serenely 'twixt reeds and lily pads, undaunted by nature’s sudden burst of energy and fury.
Gradually shafts of sunlight shoot between cracks in the rain-clouds, pushing them aside and revealing a canvas of purest blue, dotted with fluffy white cushions. The trees, minutes before sombre hunched and dour, salute the sun resplendent in their new coats of lustrous green. The roar, in seconds, is replaced by quiet tranquillity. Now the lake is calm, a gently rippling mirror from which rises a delicate mist.
From everywhere bird song breaks the silence, and a fox ventures from its lair. A cloud of insects tumble in the sunlight and a frantic dragonfly hovers, darts then hovers again.
For this is April in England.