Trooping the colour

A new breath floats in far from the south

Spring fever catches me wide in the mouth

Sleep patterns change as nature seeks renewal

A burning sky sparks a desire to refuel

Even the trembling leaves turn to the sun

Trooping their colours for spring has begun

Time to restock, life surges ahead

Birds tend to nests, new beaks to be fed

Sleepers have awoken, holed up from the frost

Hungry, they’re hunting with roads to be crossed

Rivers to tread, then upstreams to search

Gardens to plunder, rose beds at the church

The clocks go forward, only one hour

Gifting gardeners light to tend to their bowers

Unnoticed by hunters, not managed by time

Like foxes planning slyly the perfect crime

Sunday in an English country garden

Sunday in an English country garden.

via Sunday in an English country garden.

Sunday in an English country garden

“Alright shorty we give up already: where the duck are you?”

Waking early in summer is a joy, what’s not to like? It’s warm, the sun is with us most of the day and you just feel a little lighter, brighter and keen to explore. Well I do. Not sure about my flatmate, crawled out of the bedroom a half hour ago then crawled straight back in deciding it was too early.

Today, I’m paying it forward as many people do.

There’s an old country garden that needs some attention; lawns will be mowed, edges trimmed and weeds banished. All of which is a bit much for the septagenarian owner, but she cooks a mean roast when she’s not napping in her summer house.

Here’s a couple of snaps from her lovely Surrey garden, the colours this time of year are simply brilliant.

Sunday’s are meant for an English country garden and a cracking Sunday roast. Nice and slow, next week will be hectic…