Strimming the too-tall grass in a T-shirt.
Red kite circles lazily overhead as Tod mows the field.
Fat bumble bees fall over each other in the opened peonies and first roses
Hoopoes hoo-hoo-hooing down at the cottage.
A line of swallows gather and chatter on the electricity wire that crosses the field from our neighbours.
Bertie hunts a small shrew in the sandy bank behind the cottage as I pull up handfuls of long lush weeds and try to leave at least some of the wild poppies to flower. The shrew jumps inside a fat plastic tube protecting the agapanthus and lives to fight another day.
The plants I thought had died in February's snow are slowly reviving in the warmth and sunlight.