Oak at Caenhill

It's a privilege to watch the farm where I volunteer growing and taking shape. Every week is different. Today was quieter, greyer, cold and threatening drizzle without actually delivering either rain or an interesting sky. Yet there is still new life - the rescue hens that arrived yesterday have already started laying and there's the odd defiant new leaf standing proud on bare branches.

Here's one of several striking oak trees. Shortly after taking this one I confidently struck out the long way round the furthest muddiest field, only to have my mobile go off at the most distant point advising me that B was unwell at school. They phoned again a field later to make sure I was on my way. So we're now on the sofa waiting to go to yet another doctor's appointment.