As I stood near the rough patch in our garden making a phone call yesterday, I couldn’t help noticing that the large pile of garden trimmings we’d dumped there over the last couple of years was unseasonably dry. What better excuse could I possibly need for a bonfire? Unfortunately, the pile was too big to burn safely, so, this afternoon, I dug out the garden incinerator and spent several smokey hours disposing of old Christmas trees, prickly twigs and branches, and dried leaves. They burned so quickly, I had to work constantly to keep feeding the fire.
Yesterday’s curlews were still burbling in the back field, and, at one point, the raven I spotted last week flew past. I hope I’ll be seeing a lot more of him.
It felt more like June than late March as Jen and I took our walk around the lanes in the evening. The fields above Ernest’s looked almost parched.
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