The long wet winter suddenly turned into glorious summer, and every waking moment seems to have been spent outside! I did finish work for exhibition - you can see it here, and some of the originals are now for sale in my Etsy shop.
We are lucky to have a fantastic allotment, which Steve works very hard on. It was wild and overgrown when we took it on 5 years ago, but we have gradually reclaimed most of it. The allotments are at the top of the village, catching the afternoon sun, with the most magnificent views across the hills.
What more perfect way to spend a summer Sunday than riding ponies with friends all day, followed by a lazy evening in the allotment?
The potatoes are coming up, and the currant bushes are laden.
One side of the allotment is bordered by apple trees, and the other by elder trees. At the bottom is an elderly walnut tree.
Comfrey grows everywhere, especially in the last unclaimed patch at the top of the allottment, behind which a neighbour's beehives live. The edges are a riot of wildflowers, and the whole plot hums with the sound of bees, late into the evening.
The Wolf boy has his own plot, carefully planted with raspberries, cucumbers and basil, with a handful of poppy seeds scattered through it.
We still haven't got round to building a shed or summerhouse to sit on a sunny evening!
Walking home, we cross the stream that divides the allotments, complete with dipping pan to fill your watering can.
And pass the secret, abandoned corner allotment, where the wolf boy is constantly finding new flower treasures to show me.
Overlooked by Meldon, the hill which guards the village below, everything is bursting with life.
Some plots are sprawling , and some are regimented.
We walk home in the evening light
Through the kissing gate,
and across the neatly manicured park.
At the top of the village the road splits, and we could walk down the leafy tunnel to home,
or wind through the village square,
but instead we opt to walk down through the churchyard.
I love this church - dedicated to St Michael the Archangel, it sits on the hill, a direct line passing through the church, the war memorial with it's much older cross, down the hill and squarely through my house, and on up to the lookout at the top of the deer park.
And the churchyard too, a sleepy, friendly place, full of the memories of people who have lived and loved in this small place.
And back home .....
Where the tatty ginger cat awaits us :)