Standaard Boekhandel gebruikt cookies en gelijkaardige technologieën om de website goed te laten werken en je een betere surfervaring te bezorgen.
Hieronder kan je kiezen welke cookies je wilt inschakelen:
Technische en functionele cookies
Deze cookies zijn essentieel om de website goed te laten functioneren, en laten je toe om bijvoorbeeld in te loggen. Je kan deze cookies niet uitschakelen.
Analytische cookies
Deze cookies verzamelen anonieme informatie over het gebruik van onze website. Op die manier kunnen we de website beter afstemmen op de behoeften van de gebruikers.
Marketingcookies
Deze cookies delen je gedrag op onze website met externe partijen, zodat je op externe platformen relevantere advertenties van Standaard Boekhandel te zien krijgt.
Je kan maximaal 250 producten tegelijk aan je winkelmandje toevoegen. Verwijdere enkele producten uit je winkelmandje, of splits je bestelling op in meerdere bestellingen.
For millennia, the passing seasons and their rhythms have marked our progress through the year. But what do they mean to us now that we lead increasingly atomized and urban lives, and our weather becomes ever more unpredictable or extreme? Will it matter if we no longer notice, even hear, the first cuckoo call of spring, or rejoice in the mellow fruits of harvest festival? How much will we lose if we can no longer find either refuge or reassurance in the greater natural--and meteorological--scheme of things? Nick Groom's splendidly rich and encyclopedic book is an unabashed celebration of the English seasons, and the trove of strange folklore and often stranger fact they have accumulated over the centuries. Each season and its particular history are given their full due, and these chapters are interwoven with others on the calendar, and how the year and months have come to be measured, on important dates and festivals such as Easter, May Day, and, of course, Christmas, on that defining first cuckoo call, on national attitudes to weather, our seasonal relationship with the land and horticulture, and much more. The author expresses the hope that his book will not prove an elegy: only time will tell.