Our field is full of buttercups at the moment, which look wonderful in the sunshine and distract the eye from the equally large numbers of thistles growing there...
There are not enough hours in the day for all the gardening I have set for myself (yes, it’s my fault entirely), but there are now more daylight hours in the evening, which helps a little. I cease upon the midnight, but only for a bath, because – and it thrills me just to write this – a nightingale has been singing in the trees outside the bathroom window. It sings its heart out every evening from around 10pm until I’m not sure when, but way past midnight. My family have pretended to be as excited and troop obediently upstairs or outside to hear it. “Yeah, cool.”, they say in their down-beat way. I know they’re not impressed now, but they’ll look back on this when they’re ninety and tell their great grandchildren that once there were nightingales. It is magical and I shall learn more about them.
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