Even though I wish we could have some decent rain - two nights of deluge would be perfect - I can't pretend that I haven't been enjoying the sunshine. It's been perfect weather for walking.
There is a hill that I often go down with B&B with a wonderful view, reminiscent of a Ronald Lampitt illustration in an old Ladybird book: a wide shallow bowl, with houses in the distance, hedges, copses, reeds, ponds, pasture, farm tracks - the landscape 'plotted and pieced'. I've been watching the crops since I chatted to the farmer last autumn, as he tried to get his drill to plant the wheat at the right depth on the slope next to the curving track downhill.
Last week, between Monday morning and Wednesday morning, the barley at the bottom of the hill came into the ear, and its bright green awns make it a striking contrast to the green of the knee-high wheat, which has tones of blue and grey. It's wonderful to stand looking out at it all, watching the wind stir the wheat and the barley and listening to the birds. The hawthorn is coming out, the cow parsley is flourishing, and despite the lack of rain everything is growing.
I'm so lucky to have all this so close to home. It was less lovely when it was muddy, but even then, on a clear evening, I loved to stand there and see lights glittering in the distance.