Wednesday, 19 March 2014



Clouds scudded across the sky chased by the March winds. A buzzard circled overhead playing with the air currents, its plaintiff cries silencing the songbirds below. Dried beech leaves chased each other across the lawns.


In the borders the daffodils danced in homage to their favourite poet. The pale yellow petals of a primrose caught the spring light. A day to savour, a day to work in contented solitude in the vegetable patch. A day to forget worries and concerns. A day to turn the soil and feel it friable, unclogged by winter.




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