Enough of all this bookish talk, we have other catching up to do and I think a calm and relaxing Friday morning walk is in order to sooth the fevered Booker brows.
I think the lane in June passed me by and perhaps it was all too cold and wet but I've caught Devon in the nick of time for July. Don't be in the least bit deceived that it might be looking like this now that it's August, the last few days we have invented a new sort of rain, the very wet sort.
Never work with animals and children and now I'll add butterflies.
You'll just have to take my word for it, Red Admirals, Orange Somethingorothers, Large Heaths. Small Heaths and only managed to persuade one of them to pose.
The search was on for any shred of colour bar green which now dominates as the hedges soar to ten feet plus and everything takes on that rambling tangled look with overtones of bedraggled beauty. You couldn't create it if you tried and nestling in there signs of the Autumn harvest to come, we'll be jamming come October.
A pause and a lean on the gate as usual.
The generous scent and drifts of wild honeysuckle create the warp and weft of the hedge whilst others decide their day is done and start to seed.
The model butterfly and I think it's a Gatekeeper.
Then a final lean with a touch of long sightedness across to the tiny village of Sydenham Damerel before we head onto the verandah and a cool drink, except this was last Sunday, today the seats are soaking wet and the Aga is back on.
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