White Hornbeam

Looking upwards...
A week is all it takes for the garden to go from bare to bursting.
This is the week.
Every day of every season is different on this planet.
Aren't we lucky?

I'm poaching pears in red wine. Not exactly what Nigel (my hero) would call a 'fast pudding').
I don't know how they'll turn out. I've never cooked pears before (for similar reasons to 'life is too short to stuff a mushroom).
However, we were in a restaurant where someone else chose them from the menu, and they arrived - all spirally cut and pink and pristine (with a sage leaf cocked cheekily on the side) and looking so gorgeous that I thought I'd have a bash at home.
I hope it's worth all the bother. The knife wasn't anywhere sharp enough, so first I had to find the steel... (Involving a clamber through the garage and a stretch on stepladders). The pears I had in already (perfectly good pears) had no stalks... (They don't look cheeky at all without stalks). And the vanilla pods I was sure I had have disappeared.

We'll see then.