Spring has sprung

I should have been indoors, proofreading my latest book but the sun was shining. Outside my kitchen window a pair of blue tits were pecking at the peanuts and a chaffinch was crunching the sunflower seeds. The buds on my Kentish Cobnut tree were just pushing through after the serious pruning that I gave it in the Winter. I hope to harvest a few thousand nuts from it this Autumn. My daffodils in the shade were still trumpeting yellow and the grape hyacinths pointing imperative blue fingers at the umbrella foliage of my hollyhocks. So I dragged my bicycle out of the shed to cycle to work. 

Bluebells at Stelling Minnis

I work at home. So I cycle from my front door to my back door via the village of Stelling Minnis -- a round trip of sixteen miles. Aren't we lucky to live in a country that has distinguishable seasons? Everything is fresh and exerting itself in the Spring, by Summer it is mature, fully established and confident. 

An old farmstead with its oast house.

With the approach of Autumn one can detect a smidgin of misgiving. Was it all too good to last? Then the truth arrives with Winter and suddenly all is fighting for survival.

This is East Kent in the Spring.
Now what would you rather be doing -- working on a computer or riding a bicycle?