Not much happening around these parts, apart from life hurtling on at outrageous speed. I’ve been having a minor attack of melancholy as I digest the fact that another of Max’s birthdays has passed; and while my children are getting older and wiser all the time, I am staying young and foolish.

Happy Birthday, Max.

The sun is streaming through the rain-dirty windows, the wrens are back on window patrol and as I peek through the blinds, I can see the garden is waking up and calling me out. The plum tree is as radiant as a bride.

The garden needs my attention. I’m not quite ready, but Spring will not wait. Excuse me, while I speak sternly to myself. I will be weeding and replanting this weekend! Time must be made! Stop moping around, pull yourself together and get on with it, woman.

There, now something will be done. For sure.

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