Green Fuse

A tree peony unfurls its elegant foliage,  and behind it an ancient beech slowly masks its gnarled limbs with another year's fresh leaves. Spring is edging towards summer. If only it would warm up a bit!

My dear friend Margaret is 88 today. She says it's the best birthday she ever had, one long stream of phone calls and messages, cards and presents left on the doorstep.  Even one flesh-and-blood visitor, who remained in the garden, but at least was visible and audible.

I sent her a bottle of sloe gin. Sherry's her usual tipple, but I think the circumstances merited something stronger.