In early Spring Robin, by hand, cleared a great mound of rubble and rocks and briars and nettles, that had sat undisturbed for over 20 years outside the bedroom window. What was beneath was, an enormous boulder and at the same time as Robin cleared the tangle round the boulder I discovered a faded brown envelope in the shed, of wild flower seeds. Robin scattered them round the boulder, and several moons and huge downpours later and this magical carpet of the most exquisite delicacy and colour has materialised.

Quite different to anything I’ve ever seen before – lots of delicate shades of whites and greens and pinks and purples and reds and rusts and all tinted by various dots of colour and by variations of the one shade. They’re hard to describe because although all the same, they’re all different too. They vary from 1 to 2 feet high.

When the green wave first started to sprout, Hazel said I’d have to thin the plants out, but really I hadn’t the energy, and hated the fact that I’d have to discard some of them. And I’m so glad I just left them alone. They seem quite happy bunched together and apart from the odd nettle or bramble they have the patch all to themselves. There’s a single pretty blue flower among them – right up against the rock itself, and now a zillion poppies are about to bloom.

It’s a scorcher of a day. Shades of global warming. Yesterday evening, following the sun, I moved my 5 tomatoe plants to the gable of the house. I placed three of them close to the wall, the other two further out. An hour later when I checked, the wall ones had totally drooped, whereas those away from the wall were perfect. Panic. I let them cool off in the shade for 30 mins, then adding a little warm water to the can, I gave them all a thorough soaking. And 2 hours later. Relief. The sad leaves had stretched and dusted themselves off and all was well. Phew. I better stop bragging about them – pride before fall and all that. Still, I have 13 tomatoes and no glasshouse and this is my first attempt. It’s wonderful.

Noon and the sheep have sought the shade of the Ash in the centre of the field. The still woolly offspring are lying under the Sycamores a little to the left. There is no activity in the field, siesta time for sheep. The swallows are on the wing though with all their magnificent energy. I noticed today as I went into the shed, that last year’s nest has been ringed with an inch of new moist clay. It forms a little bunting effect along the top, like icing dripping on a cake. The blue tits seem to have flown. Two young jackdaws, like last year, are reluctant to leave the nest at the gable, squeaking for attention like old bicycle wheels being pushed up hill.

Sunday 27 2007

I’m not too hopeful for my tomatoe crop. Though the soil is excellent, and my comfrey is seeping in buckets of water, ready soon for application, I had no idea what tomatoe growing was all about. My containers are much too small, as are my windows to let in sufficient amounts of sunlight. Nor did I know that each plant can sprout up to 5’ above window level. I tried to rehome them but with no success so I have walked them round the sunlight windows each day, and left them outside when the wind had ceased and the sunlight was full. Jill spots them. I hadn’t. Two tiny little green orbs dangling from a delicate stem.
Sunday 20 2007

One swallow perches on the tip of the roof, her companion atop the nearby chimney stack. The chatter is incredible: loud, animated, uninhibited finishing with the click, click clicking commas indication the end of the sentence. Wonder what they are saying? Were Daniel Jackson here, no doubt he would interpret, or better still Joe Magee who actually speaks to birds or maybe it’s just the blackbird he can converse with.