....on a walk through the garden and down to the end of the fields.
Celandines shine through oak leaves on a patch of earth by the kitchen door.
Bluebells spears in a border. Behind them , ground elder is waking up to fight another year against Mr DW`s fork and spade.
In the field, a plastic bag has blown across the hedge from the Forest roadside.
A fox must have stolen Mr DW`s gardening glove. It is in the far field, a long way from the place it was last seen. I pick up the glove and smell the stink of fox.
A small stick monster emerges from a rabbit hole. I wonder how it arrived. I didn`t put it there.
Hazel catkins burst their yellow pollen into the breeze.
Oak buds swell.
Hedgerow elder leaves are opening.
Back in the warm, light greenhouse, lettuce seedlings sprout and turn their first green leaves towards the sun.