Jo Naden

The beautiful flowers of the garden, drawn on by the heat, have been dashed by the oh so strong winds and rain, the newly opened petals of the rose are a carpet of white, tinged pink, on the ground.

Still the birds keep singing, although the young blackbirds nesting nearest the cottage have lost their young to predation. I haven’t seen the hedgehog yet this year, however the imprint of its strong snout suggests that all is well in the pigsty. The additional rains have replenished the water levels somewhat and generally at a deeper level things look better.

Through the studio window the field stretches out silver in the light, barley grows there again, as it was the first year that I “sat at the window’