Dance me ...

Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin
Dance me through the panic till I'm gathered safely in
Lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove
Dance me to the end of love…

Lenard Cohen came to mind when watching John prune the apple tree although perhaps not. I must have blipped him pruning this tree for the last six years, it’s coming up to seven since setting out on this journey. The first daffodils are out, about a month behind the usual first, they didn’t flower this year.

A quieter day, a few hail showers but didn’t get caught when out for a short walk earlier.