We said we would limit ourselves to one picture a day so here it is
We have a love hate relationship with bracken, although mostly love. These uncurling fronds, embryo shaped, combine delicacy with power. Later, the bracken smell is laden with childhood memories of moorland walks and leafy dens. Any hate is down to keeping it in its place as it tries to invade the meadow. We have drawn a red line. Well, a green line actually in the form of a mown path with any eruption beyond it being condemned to snapping and stamping. We fear they are winning.
Oh, and this
The first yellow rose that rears high up on the front of the house.
The tree heather is like… a tree… made of heather
The red hawthorn is Muriel’s memorial tree and its flowering brings back her smiling.