May 11
Soon
Bundled, trussed and wrapped
In wool, feather and fleece
Tight. Skin a flag of pursed pores
Waiting to fly and unfurl
A freckled release.
I have x rayed these bones for what
Seems like millenia. A fossil in the mud
Of three hundred sleeps
Soon, please, they will unroll and realign
Recognize I am newly awake, like the world.
Ok, it’s a poem and I am not a poet. Be kind now.
Apr 21
pic CHOG
Today we call M and tell him the first Swallow has arrived. It’s a moment of joy, admiration and awe for its arduous cross continental journey. Now it is perched on the telephone wire which stretches across part of the front yard, preening each wing in turn. Not long before, it was whooping and swooping above the pond and flying low, in and out of the shippen. Its song is peppered with dolphin like clicks. I am sitting on the top step, the slate warm, feeling the sun on my face, my body slowly unwinding, finally released from being huddled, bundled and wrapped. There is a delightful din of a world waking up. Ten years ago there were almost thirty Swallows lined up on the wire by the end of the summer; each subsequent year there have been less and less.
I abandon the ‘to do’ list. I think, today will be a day of inefficiency
I experience anxiety as I hope and wonder about a mate for the Swallow arriving. And if they breed successfully will there be enough insects for them to feed their young?
The massive decline in bee populations catches the public imagination, but all insects are being put under similar pressure by loss of habitat and pesticides. In a farmland setting, loss of habitat means less wild flowers, the planting of monocultures of rye grass or other crops without provision for invertebrates. And why does this matter? Well, in a nutshell…
Biodiversity means the variety of life, in all its forms. It includes the variety of species and ecosystems (communities and interrelations of species) in the world, and also genetic variation. Human beings are dependent for their sustenance, health and well-being on fundamental biological systems and processes. This includes all of our food, many medicines and industrial products, as well as the air we breathe. Without insects and other invertebrates, human life on this planet would be impossible. The enormous diversity of life is of crucial value, providing resilience to organisms and ecosystems.
Why thank you for that, the Amateur Entomologists’ Society!
I go over to the cow field. I can hear sheep and lambs from across the valley, plaintively calling to one another. Standing there, the sky a bowl of blue, I count fourteen Buzzards above, wheeling on the thermals and crying their eerie cries. I don’t know, but I would hazard a guess that they are simply, like me, having a good time. Rabbits run in and out of the gorse bushes down the centre of the field, flashes of white and brown amongst the acid yellow and though their numbers are too plentiful (breeding like…! and no serious predators, apart from a ginger cat) who could begrudge their hoppity heaven today?
The cows are looking pretty, their ruddy coats shining in the sun. After a while they approach and both Lucy and Mary-Rose ask to be scratched. They stand happily either side of me, while Belita tentatively sniffs my face with her gentle pink nose. To think they were so terrified when they arrived and now this. Happy.
Coming back I meet Mr. Pheasant who has made regular visits this winter. A little Wren dips in and out of a thicket, and a Wagtail, the first I’ve seen this year, sits atop the shippen roof surveying the scene.
Violets, Stitchwort and Celandine are beginning to peep out from the hedgebanks. Dandelions are waiting for the bees. Where are the bees?
I’m waiting for you bees…
I nibble on a disc of Navelwort.
I could be salad material
A bout of spontaneous seed sowing comes on…
Orlaya grandiflora
Nicotiana sylvestris
Nicotiana Lime Green
Ammi majus
Cosmos sulphureus Cosmic Orange
Rudbeckia hirta Prairie Sun
Then I admire B’s artwork…
Later, I lie on the grass under the big sycamore. The still bare branches reach toward a pale moon, bursting with shimmering buds. I can feel the earth is still damp and cold but the warmed grass is an eiderdown beneath me. I am lost. My eyes close.
What about an International Day of Inefficiency? Come on, we can do it!
Apr 13
With the death of we are a grandmother Margaret Thatcher last week, it made me think of one of her other classic statements there is no such thing as society, which both epitomised her style and enraged so many of us. These are the quotes which will keep on coming around. Sadly though, what seems to have had staying power since those days is a pervasive acceptance of self interest at the heart of life – and I don’t excuse myself entirely from this malaise, though I am trying.
While not many people would argue that it was all fine before Thatcher, the ideological hatchet job her government did on the Trade Unions was done with scant regard for the long term consequences of that bitter savagery on the actual communities it affected. I’m no economist, but surely a gentler slower way could have been found to cope with the decline of traditional industry, creating new and solid industries in its place.
While individual responsibility is necessary to life and not something to be frowned upon, society should also mean that there is something actually there when people fall, a cradle of compassion if you like, a sense that the fortunate amongst us will help the struggling, for whatever reason.
I’ve always subscribed to this belief, though without really thinking that one day we might need some help ourselves. A socialist would say this work should always be the responsibility of the state and carried out by the operations of government in order to shape a fairer, more redistributive society. This was always a great excuse for liberals such as myself to hope that it was being done by someone else, somewhere else. But in the absence of these made-up utopias, charities do have a big part to play.
However I don’t buy the Big Society twaddle – empty words Cameron, empty words. In practice it means things like my friend, a speech therapist in the NHS, has been told that there is only a budget to treat the most acute emergency cases, while the valuable work she was doing with severely autistic babies has been cut and she is having to tell new parents whom she was working with that they are now on their own.
I am sick to death of the rhetoric abounding about at the moment which vilifies the poor and the vulnerable. Have you counted how many times the phrase hard working families has been bandied about? Almost as much as benefit scroungers and workshy cheats. Like brainwashing. If you say it enough times people will start to believe it. Sure, there are people who take the piss, but compared to the amount that the treasury is losing from tax evading companies, its peanuts. Interestingly I heard on the radio this morning that it was actually in Thatchers time that so many people went on to incapacity benefit, the thousands of people who had lost their jobs as a result of the closures, as she wanted to fiddle the unemployment figures – running at nearly 4m, remember that? That’s what I’d call how to give people hopelessness not hope.
We’re certainly not all in this together. While the poor are being capped left right and centre, it’s totally ok that huge companies don’t pay their tax and chief execs have unlimited bonuses for banks in public ownership. Places like London have become playgrounds for the super rich while the differential between the haves and the struggling is getting wider and wider. Something is seriously at sea here.
But my post today is also about the charity Perennial, (patroned by the real Queen!) with whom I do some volunteering. I discovered the charity through the website www.turn2us.org.uk which a lovely friend (the one above, thanks M) told me about when illness struck my husband. We were fortunate in the sense that we didn’t need financial assistance but we found ourselves reeling from the impact of what was happening ie: our world being turned upside down. We were assigned a case worker and just having someone visit us who had an inkling of what we were going through and understood the turmoil that ensued was incredibly comforting. They also helped with the minefield of long forms which needed to be filled out in great detail and were pretty distressing. And 0ur case worker has continued to support us. Of course it’s possible to empathise with people who are going through difficulties, but until it actually happens to you, you’ve really got no idea.
So this is to say thank you to Perennial and to hopefully help promote the excellent work it does and spread the word, both to people who are in the outdoor industries who might need help and to people who may want to support it.
Anyway, we raised £1082.84 recently at the Cornwall Garden Society’s Spring Flower Show at Boconnoc House and Gardens. The success of the Cornwall group is due in the main to George Kestell, who despite being a gardener and lecturer gives up tons of free time to organising and attending all the Perennial events, as well as appearing regularly on a gardening programme on local radio.
Another freezing day, at least on the Sunday, when I was there, but the plucky public turned up to peruse the exhibitions and buy the wares on sale. Check out those coats!
Sharon, a fellow volunteer
George, on the left.
If you know anyone who might have a need of Perennial, now or in the future, please share this information. Or indeed if you’d like to help, donate or whatever…actually they have lots of gardening type information on their website and run workshops, tours and have a volunteer pool of speakers for gardening clubs etc. www.perennial.org.uk
Oh ok I know you’re missing the cows…they’re missing you too…
Hello, they say
Apr 6
March 2013 is really really cold; the coldest March since 1962. By this time in 2012 the migratory starlings were already on their way back to their summer places, northern Europe and Russia. But now they are staying put for the time being, hanging out with their English cousins until the wind changes and eases their passage on the long journey north, a warm south westerly ruffling their rainbow sheen feathers.
Last week we made the journey to see them fly in to the massive night time roost on Bodmin Moor. At sundown the birds just keep coming and coming, a million plus. This time we saw birds of prey, possibly a hen harrier and a merlin, going in for their supper.
The murmuration of starlings did a bit of their aerial dancing at the beginning which was amazing but I was absorbed enough to miss capturing it on camera. As it turned out they didn’t do any more.
I’ve posted this link before, it is such a lovely short film of the starlings doing their thing – breathtaking and sweet. Enjoy!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iRNqhi2ka9k
And this is the direction most of the starlings come from.
Also, if you’re into birds and the need for good habitat in general, this is an amazing blog post from Wolf Tree Farm, a farm not far from here, in which she describes their valley over decades.
Apr 1
Egloskerry, Tresmeer, Otterham, Camelford, Delabole, St Kew Highway and Wadebridge.
These are just a few of the railway stations, no longer in existence, which lined Southern Railways’ network of train tracks built west of Exeter in the late part of the nineteenth century. Relatively under used, they came to be known as ‘The Withered Arm’.
Camelford Station 1972 by Peter Howie
Imagine though, in the golden age of the railways and before getting into a car was possible for most people, how wonderful it would have been to climb aboard a train in Waterloo, London and travel the two hundred and sixty miles to Padstow on the North Cornish Coast in six hours. Before rail, Cornwall really was the wild west, long before tourism began.
Towards the end of the journey the train had to traverse the rugged terrain of North Cornwall, surmounting some incredible gradients, rising from 200ft at Launceston to a peak of 800ft above sea level between Otterham and Camelford. To make it relatively smooth for the passengers there were forty three cuttings made between Launceston and Wadebridge, before the final flat journey of nine minutes alongside the stunning Camel Estuary.
Once arrived, I bet a fish and chip supper would have tasted divine.
Got to be in paper
Last week, with a couple of friends who had suggested the expedition, I set out with them to find and explore one of these cuttings on the abandoned line. The tunnel under the village of Trelill is clearly marked on the OS map. Armed with this and some homemade biscuits made by B’s gran we set off:
It is another cold cold day, with a finger hurting north east wind. We park up in the village and at first approach the tunnel from the southern end, scrambling down a steep bank onto the line near a curved brick road bridge, grabbing hold of ivy and the whips of young trees as we go down. The rails are long gone and it is surprisingly muddy considering they must have been laid on ballast. I’m glad I’m wearing wellies. We can see the tunnel entrance some 100 metres away and make our way down towards it.
It is not clear to whom this land now belongs; there are no signs of warning about trespass, yet for some reason it feels like we are doing something illegal. I am conscious that any minute now, the long arm of the law will make its presence felt. However, quite soon I am more concerned about where I’m putting my feet as the going is a little treacherous, with seemingly solid ground melting into deep quagmires of sticky mud. We pause to admire the curve and clever engineering of the road bridge from below.
Curving stonework
From this distance we can see that the entrance to the tunnel is gated but we press on to check it out. We are having to pick our way really carefully, trying to get some purchase on the sides of the cutting. On the way a bright button of red fungus shines from its damp bed.
We eventually reach the entrance and there is no way we can get in this end, as this unbending gate has evil looking prongs on the top. I poke my camera through the bars.
We make our way back to the road. The thought flits across my mind that this expedition may have been better undertaken in the summer; the next second the anaerobic slime is over the top of my boots.
We walk back through the village to find the other end of the tunnel, which according to the map is bordered by a footpath. The Bull in Field sign doesn’t deter us and we fuel up with a biscuit, intrepidly going forth. From the top we can see the field path dropping away steeply and the overgrown wooded railway cutting to the left snakes across the landscape into the distance like an insulated wire, not even a hint of green glinting on the branches.
At the bottom we climb through the fence and slide down another steep bank onto the line. This side seems to be firmer underfoot but the way through is harder.
The entrance is glimpsed
We manage to squeeze in through the flimsier gate and get inside the tunnel. Bats fly out as we get in, accustoming our eyes to the dark. It is very cold and damp but there isn’t any smell which surprises me. With torch at the ready we make our way down the curved tunnel, marvelling at the amount of work it must have taken to make the railway and its forty three cuttings through solid rock.
One of the safety alcoves along the tunnel which you can get in when the train comes – you can see the bedrock behind the brick work
It’s quite exciting being in the tunnel, a forgotten place which was built so long ago.
B shines her torch
We reach the other end.
The gate with the evil prongs
I felt the adrenalin of our adventure for the whole day.
There is still a small stretch of this particular railway still in use, run by a dedicated bunch of steam enthusiasts. You can catch a train from Launceston to New Mills and back, a fun outing. There is also a vintage transport and machinery museum and a café at The Launceston Steam Railway Company
A section between Bodmin, Wadebridge and Padstow is now The Camel Trail, for cycling and walking.
Visiting loco Gertrude at the Launceston Steam Railway
And for those of us who live in hope.
Sign at the Launceston Steam Railway for the visit from a Darjeeling loco
Mar 23
Phase 1 of Operation Crush Training is now complete.
The hard standing is down, the fence and gate erected and the cattle crush in place. Next, it’s time for the girls to come through, lured as usual with their favourite thing – food. I close the gate, leaving them behind it and a pile of hay in the new corral. The only thing which separates them from their hearts desire is the crush. After some nervous sniffing they gingerly step onto the boards. It all goes very well and I’m relieved. Now they are like old hands at coming in and out of the crush.
Next phase…trapping them inside it… gulp. I will keep you posted.
The Slow Approach
Mary Rose keenest (on hay)
Next is Belita (surprisingly)
Come on Lucy
That’s it good girl
Very happy
And just to show you how much they really like hay…
Tucking into T’s hay which he is transporting home
Yes, caught you!
Phase 1 of Pond Rehabilitation is now complete.
We had the pond dug out with a digger a few years ago. It doesn’t have a liner but fluctuates with the water table. While I was moaning about the relentless rain here I happened to go on Twitter (yes, I’m doing that) and found out that yesterday it was World Water Day so I tried to think of all the people and places in the world who have no access to clean water and are suffering terrible drought. It did help.
I think I mentioned that digging the pond had somewhat cured our damp problem in the house. Somewhat…. Our plan is to attract as much wildlife as possible and the pond really helps with this. The birds love to bathe and drink and there are hundreds of creatures in there. Periodically it does need a clear out and I did this a couple of weeks ago. My, that weed is HEAVY. There were a few casualties but I’m afraid that is the price which has to be paid – but the starlings and the blackbirds had themselves a good feed.
The pond when it was first dug – very brave very pale man
The pond on World Water Day 22 March 2013
Not sure when the starlings will fly back – it’s pretty cold in Russia and Northern Europe right now
Phase 1 of Getting Excited about Spring is now complete.
Despite the still wintry weather there is a gleam in the eye of springs’ arrival. The equinox has passed and the buds are waking and breaking. Last week on a bitter day I went with my mother and stepfather to the RHS garden at Wisley. To be honest the majority of our time was spent in one of the cafés and the gift shop where they have ACRES of lovely enticing books on horticulture, design, nature and landscape.
I bought a book called Edgelands written by two poets, Paul Farley and Michael Symmons Roberts which I’m really looking forward to – it forms, according to the back cover
a critique of what we value as wild, and allows our allotments, railways, motorways, wasteland and water a presence in the world, and a strange beauty all of their own
If you want to read about a walk in the edgelands Gerry has done one here called ‘Along the Garston Shore’ which I think is great – and tells you a bit more about the book and when the phrase was first coined.
Anyway, we also went to the warm glass houses where the orchids and other amazing flowers and cacti were an uplifting treat.
It only needs the jet stream to shift a little and some of that spring warmth to awaken the beast!
Mar 9
I can’t see that
…was a phrase which seemed to crop up rather regularly on a recent trip to London. Cue myopic hilarity from myself and friends who’s eyesight is degenerating but who haven’t quite mastered the art of remembering their glasses. Still hoping, perhaps, for the twenty twenty vision of yesteryear and incredulous that this thing is actually happening.
So, wine lists and menus in cafes and restaurants, exhibition texts and departure boards at train stations became something of a mystery. I even got lost with a friend in Walthamstow in search of the refurbished William Morris Museum as I could neither read the A to Z or grapple with my friends iphone as she valiantly drove us through the chilly grey wastes of east London.
I won’t do a review of this most excellent museum, as fellow blogger Hamer from the The Rowley Gallery has done one here which inspired me to make the visit.
After the bad news about Herald, I thought I’d balance it out with something more uplifting. One of the great things that has happened since I have more time to think, is that I also have more time to look. Slowing down really makes you see stuff in detail, whereas visual appreciations before were more momentary, passing by at a great rate in an unmemorable blur.
In this post I just want to share with you a few beautiful things which have been made with craft, the kind of things that William Morris and his gang would have approved of very much.
have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful
is his most famous quote, but I quite like
the true secret of happiness lies in taking a genuine interest in all the details of daily life
First up then is this oak swill basket, which came into my possession recently as a present. There is only one person left in the UK who is making these and you can find out about him and them here, including a fascinating look into the history of these amazing baskets.
Secondly, this yurt maker crafts these wonderful nomadic houses by steaming hand split local ash. I love the form and the clever way it is all put together… shame to put the canvas on really…
The yurt maker also made this wonderful curved stair rail, also steamed. Every time I grip this as I go up and down the stairs I am aware of what went into making it.
And the brackets for the stair rail are hand made in a small forge in Devon, where the metal worker also makes woodburning stoves to any specification.
These aren’t the stair brackets these are the gutter brackets…but you get the picture
Thirdly, I have been meaning get our books onto shelves for quite a while as they are still languishing in piles. So the other day I started dusting them off and came across this lovely set of King Penguins. Ok, not strictly speaking made from wood, but there’s no shame in expanding the criteria to get into the Beautiful Things post. What a joy and a pleasure to rediscover these treasures among the dust (MUST get bookcase).
I wonder if all the books of the future will become more like art. Perhaps most of our reading material will be consumed on e-readers but books may become beautiful objects to collect and savour, like paintings.
Arachnophobes, there are spiders ahead.
Lastly I like wood because it’s really useful. Here’s some chestnut fencing.
Chestnut Mortice and Tenon
And I saw these handsome wild ponies the other day, the beauties of Bodmin Moor .
Mar 4
I suppose you might put it down to a lack of experience or an omission of rigour on our part but whatever, it does seem especially cruel that we have to lose Herald, our bull, (about who you can read here and here if you’re interested), before he has had a real chance to become part of things. Not to mention the economic blow which last week’s news has dealt us.
This story, as always, begins with a blood test.
I travelled over to T & N’s to witness the routine TB testing of Herald, Woodbine, Daisy and Hollyhock and Woodbine’s calf. The vet was also doing a general blood test and checking to see if the cows were in calf, whether Herald had done what he was supposed to. The seeming lack of activity on this front had introduced doubt into our minds, so when it was revealed that at least two of them are definitely pregnant, and a possible for the other, there was excited relief all round. Which made the vet say in a practical and slightly incredulous way why wouldn’t they be in calf?
You know you’re getting old when the vet looks about ten (the one in green)
The vet was very helpful and assisted with some resistance on the cows’ part, apparently unusual in some older vets, who sometimes just stand around waiting impatiently while you struggle to move an unwilling beast securely into position. She was also really happy to answer my many and possibly annoying questions. All in all a very positive experience, especially when four days later they were all cleared for TB. She also reassured us that the skin complaint would probably clear up in better weather but to be on the safe side she gave them a coverall shot for mites and other beasties which can live on the skin.
Happy, we moved them to a new area.
Herald in his new foraging area
So when I got a call from T to say that Heralds blood test had come back positive for Johne’s disease it was a shock. This disease is a contagious, chronic and fatal infection of the small intestine which can take years to manifest but will eventually kill the animal. They can also pass it on, mainly to young calves.
The upshot of this is that we have to have Herald culled, even though he is showing no signs of the disease yet. We can’t risk him infecting the others, especially the newborns in 8 months time. What isn’t entirely clear is whether those new calves will carry the disease too. The other grim factor to consider is that at this stage, his carcass will be worth something. Not nearly as much as we paid for him, but it will be something.
Of course we are kicking ourselves that we didn’t get all the tests done on Herald before we made the bank account denting purchase. But it is considered very low risk in beef cattle, being mostly a disease which affects dairy herds.
It is a very sad day that our journey with Herald has ended here. I feel like I was just beginning to get to know him and feel less intimidated because of his genuine gentle nature and T & N have certainly become fond as he became part of their lives over the last few months.
He will be missed.
Feb 14
There are plenty of advantages to living in small spaces: fewer possessions, reduced impact on the earth, and lower living expenses are just a few of them. More people are choosing to live more simply, and for some that means using the bare minimum of living space. writes Jane Roarski in a recent post on the tinyhouseblog.com
This is the story of the tiny house we used to live in while we were renovating the cottage and it’s eventual demise, happening now as I write.
It all started with a caravan
Then we realised that this was going to be far too small even as a temporary measure, not to mention the cold. We estimated that we’d be in it for approximately 2 years. The photo above was taken in 2002 and we finally moved out in 2011…do the math (s), as they say.
We set about building a straw bale extension onto the caravan
Nearly there. My dad was still alive at this point, pictured here with his partner and B. Even though he was a bit of a hippy at heart he never graduated from his sensible leather shoes
The finished Balehouse. The join between the caravan and the bale structure was achieved with strips of newspaper and tar paint, a waterproof papiermache.
Pretty cosy
Entrance to the attached caravan where we had a kitchen and eating area
Home renovating can be fun
Some of the sheeps wool insulation we used in the house. Maybe living in a tiny house is good for you.
But eventually the big damp pile of stones was ready and we moved out of the tiny house.
A year later the tiny house is dismantled.
The floor was made of pallets with ply screwed to it
Goodbye
While we love our new house, in some ways we miss the tiny house. I think it may be a way forward for housing. It was really warm and took barely any resources to heat, once that log burner got going it only used a few logs a day to keep it ticking over.
But there is good and exciting news. My sister C is bravely embarking on her own tiny house project. It’s a bit bigger than the two room job but is to be so well insulated that she expects incredibly low bills. Here she is modelling her model.
A sun capturing verandha and a green roof
Clad with boards
I can’t wait to set foot in it.
Feb 5
There’s always a slow period in winter when necessary renewal needs to occur at a fundamental level. A kind of hibernation. I find that living close to the land it’s easier to get a sense of this.
Does anyone else feel like this dormouse? (No, not you, you southern hemispherans…)
But jobs still need to be done.
The incredible amount of rain we’ve experienced over the last year has not made things easy.
Very drippy.
However, in the last couple of weeks a few projects have started to get underway.
Digging out the corral and filling with crushed stone to make hard standing instead of quagmire.
The small gap to the left of the gate is where the crush will go.
Hedge cutting before the nesting season. We cut ours every two years to allow the animals and birds a chance.
I also move the cows to the Triangle Field to graze down the grass there. It’s only just across from the Cow Field so I hope it’s going to be pretty straightforward. I get some sheep hurdles at our local farmers shop which provide, along with a couple of cars, a corridor to the Triangle Field.
They follow the bale of hay quite obediently (I make sure there is a long interval since their last feed) until H’s dog gives an excited little bark which sends Belita (the nervy shy one) careering back into the Cow Field. She then becomes very distressed at being separated from the others and runs up and down the boundary on the other side. H rounds her up and I keep the other two from escaping while calling her name at the same time.
Gratifyingly, she is following the sound of my voice and then H says I should show my face to her (she’s a vet so she knows the ways of animals well) so I leave the gate closed on the others and go towards her. As soon as she sees me she comes running and lets me guide her into the new field. And very glad to be reunited with Lucy and Mary-Rose.
They are all quite excited by the abundance of grass and after a few high kicks get down to munching, moving excitedly from place to place as if they both can’t quite believe it or get enough, snatching mouthfuls from each sweet patch. This is before they realise that there is no shelter in this field. They have now been out in the open for a couple of weeks. They really don’t like the rain on their backs.
But I am very pleased that Belita trusted me enough to come with me. This is definitely progress.
H manages to capture the moment on her phone
The girls taking advantage of some morning sun after a hard night
This is where they try and shelter from the rain.
I also went over to T & N’s where I was able to catch up with Herald, our bull. Unfortunately he got lice, possibly brought with him from the other farm, which has left him a bit patchy but it’s all been treated now. T says he is very good natured and doesn’t mind a stroke.
Moose, their gentle shire horse whom they rescued when they found her in very bad shape in a field not far from them a few years ago, towers above all the others. She is definitely the top four-legged-hooved-animal in the pecking order here.
Moose, Daisy & Herald (looking very small!)
They really like hay
Aw look at that face…
Moose leads the way
Before this current sweep of arctic air the temperature was unseasonably warm for a few days ( = more rain). This has confused the frogs and the tulips. There was much croaking from the pond and when I went out in the middle of the night there were lots of frogs congregating for a bout of procreating. The pond is now full of spawn. The tulips are poking their heads out too.
I only hope it doesn’t freeze in the next couple of months.
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