AFTER THE coldest winter in almost half a century – and surely also the longest - summer arrived in the past fortnight, like an old friend rarely seen. Suddenly it was easier to smile. Beaches and parks were repopulated. Simple but unaccustomed pleasures were rediscovered: rambling in the warm countryside, pottering in the garden, picnicking, or just strolling in shirtsleeves or summer dresses on sunlit city streets.
The fine weather is also a blessing for the organisers of the splendid Bloom horticultural festival in the Phoenix Park, which is expected to attract up to 60,000 enthusiasts over its five days. But with Met Éireann forecasting cloud and showers tomorrow, and particularly on Monday, some visitors are likely to be reminded that every garden needs rain as well as sun.
The hard winter and chilly spring – not to mention the economic gloom – have sharpened our hunger for warmth and sunshine; and after three disappointing summers in a row, there is a prevalent feeling that we are owed a good one. But as ever in Ireland, the outlook is uncertain. Met Éireann wisely abstains from long-range predictions, but other forecasters have been prepared to hazard an intriguing variety of prospects. On the basis of lunar observations, the New Zealand-based weather sage Ken Ring foresees a fine June but a rainy July and August. Michael Gallagher of Donegal is heartened by the sight of frogs spawning near water and is watching out hopefully for the stork coming up over the Bluestack Mountains. The Kerry folklorist T.P. O’Conchuir is also optimistic, though a little worried by the dry May and the lush flowering of the sally tree. Somewhat more scientifically, Dr Rodney Teck of the Irish Climatic Analysis Research Unit at NUI Maynooth says sea temperatures off the west coast suggest we may enjoy “a reasonable summer”. Jonathan Powell of the UK-based Positive Weather Solutions predicts a fairly settled June, a mostly dry July and a mixed August. We’d settle for that, surely.
Yet while we scan such forecasts for a gleam of comfort, the only certainty in our weather is its maddening unpredictability. In more reflective moments we may draw from this a philosophical lesson: live in hope, accept what comes your way and be thankful for small mercies. We may agree also with Micheal Mac Liammoir that Ireland “is full of the strangest contradictions and . . . [Irish] weather repeats the fickle uncertainty of these humours”. In other words, come rain or shine, our weather is part of what we are.