Which way will weather blow sunshine to let the tiny flowers show us their bloom. Weather Cock from The Red House knows, the old iron vane can see it from up there above the roof tiles, a home that took so long to build, took so much graft and money, it became lost to the imagination. Purple blankets on moors only come when soil is ripe, not burnt up, comes once a year if luck has its way. Ah to walk amongst the dark violets, pale purples, an envelope you can feel surround you. Soak it up I say. It is here already on Carrbrook hills and Saddleworth Moor, teasing the eye, the treasures just need the smile of the Sun, lacking this week. Blow winds blow, puff up your cheeks and make room for summer, make room for something new, other than too many clouds, too much fear and hatred, too much cut and run stuff, make room for blessed hands and feet that always have room for forgiveness.