Today it's my birthday, and I've had a stream of visitors. The first was Amy, standing on the doorstep with a lemon drizzle cake and LIT candles. The rest of my visitors have been eating lemon drizzle cake all morning.
Eleanor sent me tulips, really lovely tulips because she knows they are my favourite. Yellow and orange in a white jug, and brightening the kitchen table.
The garden ... well, I can hardly believe the presents it's given me today: the first tiny snowdrops, primroses, a cowslip in amongst the celandines, helebores galore (five different types), and one tiny purply-black iris reticulata. Oh yes, and a forgotten pot of last year's hyacinths left in the greenhouse instead of being planted out - badly in need of splitting - but starting to bloom today, and now on my desk.
Blue sky, too, a perfect cold winter's day, not like all the rain we've been having and all the grey skies that are forecast. Magical.
A grave matter - Reading Roger Lancelyn Green's Tellers of Tales* a few months ago piqued a latent interest in Andrew Lang, and discovering that he was buried in the ground...
1 day ago