On Home Ground ...
The distant hills are calling me but I have to turn my back and put my nose to the grind stone. I have hardly stepped beyond the garden gate all week. As any of you who are gardeners know, there is so much to do at this time of year. Certainly no time for exploring and trailing the hills. Little by little the hedgerows are greening and leaves unfurling on the trees. The weather has warmed up considerably and soon I will only be venturing out in the dew-pearled morning and in the cool of the evening - the heat of the summer doesn't suit me and I stay in the shadows.
This week sees me 'under the weather' with a heavy cold; hot one minute; cold the next - bundling under blankets or streaming with perspiration - feverish. My throat is sore from coughing and my head pounds and my nose red enough to give Rudolph serious competition. But there is no time to linger in bed feeling sorry for myself - I have seedlings and young plants to attend to if I want the garden to be decorative and productive for the coming season.
Any spare time I have had I have been re-reading 'Cold Mountain' which I have to say is one of my favourite novels. The prose is exquisite, so descriptive that it just carries me away, back to a time when everyday was one of survival against the odds.
As I work the garden is full of birdsong and blossom - it really is a delight and my favourite time of year without a doubt. The early spring bulbs have all but finished flowering now and the summer pots have been filled and waiting in readiness in the greenhouse.
And when I feel my old self again and this wretched cold has run its course I hope to once again enjoy roaming the countryside looking for adventures new.
Apologies to all those I haven't visited this week - please feel free to admonish me - guilty as charged.