It is mid-winter, and the usual greenery of the mid-Suffolk countryside is replaced by a rather more stark world, with bare trees and hedgerows, little to gladden the soul on a grey afternoon. However, that will change, as crocuses and daffodils are already beginning to poke above ground, so Ros has been out in the garden, tidying, pruning and weeding. That means that I have been too, not something that one might normally associate with this bureaucrat. I'm not particularly good with plants, although I have improved my ability to spot what shouldn't be there, but I can follow instructions, so I can at least be vaguely useful.
And it is relaxing, in an unexpected sort of way, knowing that if we have a decent spring and summer, I can sit outside with a beer, or a glass of wine, and read a book, or the newspaper, in pleasant surroundings.
I'm only glad that we don't have a bigger garden though...
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