Wind-chimes are clashing in discordant harmony all over the gardens.
The fire in the stove roars up the chimney, heating up the oven that beckons a cake or a loaf of bread to bake…
The sun shines in a baby-blue sky and the cats are spread out on the warm earth.
The back door to the cottage lies open to admit the warmth of the April sun…
I went into town this morning to post off seeds and herbs across the world…little bits of Bealtaine Cottage will soon be air-bound, in planes that will disperse them to many different countries, most of which I have never visited and probably never will.
The urge to sow and plant, create gardens and smallholdings and grow, has never been stronger in people all over the world.
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