First job, walk around the garden.
Second job, pick daffodils for the house. (R did that).
Third job, nap for 15 minutes as exhausted.
Fourth job, drink cup of coffee.
Fifth job - "Hello bloggers everywhere, your Uncle Blog is back". (Ref. Uncle Mac and Swedish Rhapsody, Nellie the Elephant etc.)
The fine warm week has meant that flowers and leaves are sprouting throughout the garden. Unfortunately the offspring of the big sycamore have taken the advent of spring as a signal to germinate as well - seedlings in every cranny and Nook.
Down in the depths of the
pond something has stirred -
actually thousands and thousands of taddies, tadpoles to the literary minded, have left their eggs and are waiting to be eaten by the ducks and Heron.
This is just a fraction of the puddle of slimy black stuff!
If birds can eat them then why - no, I do not think I will go there, even fried.
Though I have eaten frogs legs (cooked of course), and snails, and . . .
Ah! Yes, the first rhubarb from the forcing pot is being cooked this moment.
And I know the joke and I am having mine with custard.