“April is the cruellest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain.” ― T.S. Eliot, The Waste Land

I love gates. All kinds of gates, and Britain is rich in its diverse types and designs. My favourite gate is the five-bar field gate, a gate to be leant on so one can view the newly turned out livestock on a spring evening. Field gates are the perfect height for this, not too low and no too tall. You can put one foot on the lower rung, one crooked arm along the top rail and rest contentedly to take in the view. I love well-hung gates that close with a satisfying click as the latch mechanisms (of which there are many) meet together. Gates that have sagged and need lifting to close, or tied with string, are a disappointment: the outdoor equivalent of an ill-fitting and draughty front door. Well-made wooden gates are a thing of beauty that enhance the gap that is being protected, unlike metal farm gates that are vulgar and look out of place.

The word gate is said to derive from the Norse gata, which meant road or path and referred originally to the gap in the hedge or fence, as opposed to the method of closing it off. Some of the earliest gates still in use are the lych gates, also known as corpse gates, at the entrance to churchyards. These are the familiar covered entrances to the church path. Lych derives from the Saxon word for corpse (lic) and the gate was the traditional place where the coffin bearers laid out the corpse for the first part of the burial ceremony.

Kissing gates are also found everywhere, and are so named because the movable gate ‘kisses’ each side of the structure that prevents livestock escaping. Their design means that you don’t have to remember to close the gate behind you, and either by the angle that the gate is hung, or by weights, the gate usually closes away from the field side to doubly ensure security of the livestock. Of course, the romantic notion is that when a lady and gentleman are out strolling, a lady will be invited to go through first, and then she will turn to push the gate back, and receive a kiss from her companion as a reward to let him through. When you are out walking next take a second look at the gates that you pass through.

Oh, and for those of you who read the March diary, I heard the first chiffchaff on 12 March.