No, we didn’t just do a Cummings and drive to Ventoux! There is another venerable bench in our lives - one given to us by my father when we first moved here. It’s had two sets of replacement slats since then and sits comfortably under the silver birch with views across the garden.
It’s where I tend to gravitate to with mug of tea in hand. Slightly hidden away. And it’s where I sit sorting willow or cutting scalloms - the ground around it often festooned with shavings. A bit like a plucking post!
But at this time of year, and increasingly so, sitting is a crime because up through the slats come the dog daisies, poking their lovely white heads against the silvered lichens. You really wouldn't want to squash them. So if I want to
slappe av at the moment, I need to draw up a chair!
While snapping this handsome goldfinch I failed to see - until too late - the Kite, again.
This is all I could get! So tricky to focus into a vivid sky at a moving target. That’s my excuse anyway.
