Coming and Going

Summer came today, and it lingered right through until 6.30pm when it started to rain again. But while it lasted it was hot and sultry, and we took our now customary walk early this morning, along the bottom of the field. The lane is thickly lined with lush greenery now, and from time to time you can see where a hare has crossed the verge into the wood on one side or the field on the other leaving a trail through the long grass and wild flowers. Hugo doesn't need eyesight to notice these tracks: the billions of nerve endings on his long twitching snout send a tattooed message to his brain, and he eagerly turns to stare at each one. He knows where to cross into the field now, and lead me along the newly-mown edge where, a decent distance from the lane, I set him free. Warmth rose from the hay and caused him to sneeze. It's so soft and thick underfoot now, a carpet of dried grass and fresh clippings that make walking a pleasure. Back near the house I called him to wait, and the dear little thing obeyed, standing patiently until I came to hitch him up again. I know I sound soppy about him, but I can't seem to help it.

Val came along mid-morning and together we worked in the heat, her taking on my strenuous job of yesterday, weeding the big bed, while I raked, smoothed, cut edges and generally manicured. It's a luxury I've been promising myself for - well, it feels like years but it can't be as the garden is only 20 months old. But now the big jobs are finally out of the way I can pay attention to the things that don't exhaust me. As she left I was ready to leap into a hot bath again when, wouldn't you know, I had run out of time. Italian conversation took place on the lawn of Lesley's house where we struggled as usual to describe what we had been doing since last we met. Between the three of us, amidst much laughter and with a dictionary each, we cobble together some semblance of sense. It's fun, and it helps us to improve though a listening Italian might not sgree. At 4.30pm Dave brought out tea and a polenta and almond cake he had made, topped with crushed pistachios - they're a posh lot in Yoxford.

It's 7pm and raining hard now. Though I hate to see the end of the sun it's a relief in a way. If it was clear I'd be out there again until late, by which time I'd be really aching. This way I can have a long bath, relax over my supper, and spend the rest of the evening reading In Gratitude by Jenny Diski, dog asleep at my feet. E bene.