Now, do not get alarmed, I am not heading off to Rome to elect (or become) a new Pope. I am going to pontificate about bonfires.
Bonfires are strange animals - you carefully judge the direction of the breeze - it is always good to have a bit of a blow to get the bonfire roaring - light the heap (often with difficulty) and then the wind direction veers and suffocates your neighbours, makes their washing smell and covers it in smuts.
The principal picture is of the far top part of the garden in the wooded area and shows one of our streamlets (open drains) running down to the main stream.
I am still barrowing muck - nuff said.
The garden is getting tidier and the stream has almost dried up through LACK OF RAIN!!! The mower is nudging the shed doors and trying to escape - and it is only March.
Ewedini, the farmers great climbing sheep has been in the garden again. It comes over the wall in the far corner (knocking half of it down) and then wanders around with a face which seems to say, 'What are you doing in my garden?' Cheek!
Barbed wire is now coiled across the corner, wall rebuilt - we will see how it goes. It will soon be time for the lamb gang to escape into the track up to the house. I tried to fix the gap under the fence by repositioning a post and marling it in more firmly - nearly drove the thing through out underground electricity cable! The black line was only three inches below the surface! Shocking work.
And of flowers - snowdrops, small daffs, crocus, odd daisies and celandines, promise of much more to come. At this time of year with low sun much is backlit like the Acer sango-kaku and the witch hazel. There are still some teasels left on the lower banking and they catch the light beautifully.
I stepped out this morning - a beautiful, calm, sunny, warm day - and a skein of geese went over heading for the Duddon - magical. The garden is full of birdsong. The pond is full of frogcroak. How an earth do we survive the dark days of winter?
It all makes me feel good to be alive and part of this amazing world.