Suffolk Summer

What lovely weather we've been having, really peachy. I collected Hugo on Friday after work, and we stopped off at the big Framlingham College playing field for a walk on the way home. Penny was off to London for a weekend of fun with her son and looking very glamorous, so I guessed she probably hadn't taken him out. We had the place to ourselves for a while, and then a golden labrador called Henry appeared with his master. Henry didn't look young, not at all, but Hugo didn't know that. Off he flew, darting at his new friend and flying around him until Henry couldn't resist and ran too. Hugo chased him all around the field, and you could tell by Henry's owner's face that he hadn't seen such a performance for a long time. When finally the boy came back to me, the man called across: "Well, that's more exercise than he's had for months! What a racer you've got there!". Yup. That's my boy.

College sports field

We had a picnic in Orford today and then walked along the sea wall and back into the town for an ice cream. Ruth loves a picnic, and so do I, especially beside water. Back home in the evening, I decided to clear the escholzia from around the pond. It's given a stunning display until now, but I think it's past its best. Hauling out the gigantic roots and dragging the branches and leaves out of the way, I stumbled upon a nest of baby shrews that had been hidden under the greenery. There must have been seven or eight babies, and immediately three of the little things ran out. I tried to put them back but they wouldn't stay. This was awful! I covered the nest over as well as I could, and later retrieved one little chap hiding beside a stone. The babies were very tiny, but beautiful with tiny stubby tails. I hope the mother has rescued the absconders by now and they are all safe again. I won't disturb that area for a while.

Baby shrew

California poppies all gone now

Indoors again, shaken and in need of a cup of tea, I opened a new packet of my favourite Twinings Assam teabags and emptied the contents into the tea caddy. Distracted as I was by the shrew babies incident, I nearly poured the boiling water on top of all 40, instead of the one in the mug. Hugo couldn't believe that I was going to drink it in the garden, at 6.30pm. What time do you call this? he seemed to say. Can't we all go to bed now? But it was a perfect evening, hot, sunny and still as they so often are. A group of 10 or so farm workers were combing the barley field behind me for weeds, and they stopped to chat. "Your garden is lovely," they told me, and I congratulated them on their stamina, working across the field bent double in the hot sun. What charming people they are, young and strong and hard-working. Not English, natch. I forgot to ask them when the barley will be harvested, but I think it will be soon. So while Hugo slumbered indoors I feasted my eyes on the golden ocean which all too soon will be brown furrows. Carpe diam. It's the only way.