The cyclamens I planted out atop the garden wall are struggling to bloom in their water soaked pots and everything outside looks a sad and wet brown/green
This winter has been consistently damp and depressing and today's day off ( sandwiched between long work days) has found me pottering.
I had half arranged to catch up with Jason the affable despot at the pub, but what I think I need more is some soup making, a long hot bath and a few telephone calls and so we've made a raincheck until the next pub quiz night.
From the kitchen window I can see Albert braving the drizzle as he sits quietly watching a mole hill growing in the graveyard.
He's got a thing about the moles since their recent and rather surprising arrival at St Michael's.
The evening mist shrouded the village in an anti social blanket as dusk fell
And the smell of spiced butternut squash filled the kitchen