Too snotty, too sore, for a couple of weeks, but a short two miles in the dusk light this evening. On foot round the village. I was joined, for the first half, by a cloud of nervous jackdaws seeking a roost. They descended onto still bare tree crowns like goth confetti, then rose again to call and flock to the next.
Such a poor year for camellias, but with the compensation of an unbroken progression of daffodils for six weeks running into the flush of tulip magnolias.
Further progress will require sea and sails.
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