Sometimes the urge to sit down at the end of the day is strong. I sit and read blogs and watch "Location, Location, Location" and potter about on the internet trying to find the name of a rose I planted up by the swing where I have yet again unaccountably lost the label. But every now and then we have an evening so beautiful that it is a crime not to go out into it and walk into the view, a still, warm evening where the sky is so blue it might never go dark.
Just a few months ago this was another world, cold and sharp, with a wind which cut to the bone. Hard to imagine now how it could ever be so cold that you just had to keep walking, gloved hands deep in pockets, scarves wrapped around the mouth to stop the cold air taking your breath away.
And back at the farm the crops are growing too. The whole world is growing.
I lived for a while in Cumbria and worked in Whitehaven. Driving home from Oxford on Wednesday the news on the radio made my throat thick. Cumbrians are lovely people and Cumbria is a beautiful place. Walking in my own beautiful place, the shootings are still impossible to comprehend, but somehow there is solace in natural beauty, for me at any rate. Too early for any sort of solace for Whitehaven I suspect but the place and the people are very much in my thoughts.