garden notes, stray thoughts
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The turn

Hellebore | edge of evening

Hellebore | edge of evening

Magnolia & sparrow | edge of evening

We had that first weekend when the weather finally turns, the earth creaking on its axis, and instantaneously the possibility of spring fills the air. Old friends came to stay and, though it normally rains here whenever anyone visits, this time the sun shone and it was, most definitely, spring. B & the children visited the farm shop to buy lamb and were also invited to admire the newborn lambs bothering their unfazed mothers in the field. T counted the births listed on the whiteboard — quads, triplets, twins and singletons: 112 lambs born in the past ten days.

This morning I’m restless, the weekend worn off. The four hours without children shrinking and expanding as I fidget with the different ways I could fill them. The Year 6 children from school are cycling along the road outside my window, taking their cycling proficiency. I tried to explain to a French neighbour who came over for coffee yesterday what they’re doing out there. It sounded slightly crazy as our road is a dead end & there is very little traffic to practice in. But still. There they are: little ducklings in fluorescent jackets.

There’s been good reading that I haven’t told you about, most notably Elizabeth Harrower’s novel In Certain Circles. It spookily answered questions that I didn’t even know I needed answering. And it’s set in Sydney, which admittedly predisposed me to loving it. Harrower completed it in 1971, but withdrew it from publication & it didn’t come out until 2014. It’s her last novel, though she continued to write short fiction. You can read more about her here.

I’ve also been reading my first Tana French — The Secret Place — and rediscovering the joy of a good detective novel (thanks, Kerry!). But, I guessed the killer around page 100 & I was right. B claims that I’m too good at guessing what will happen in TV shows (we’re currently watching The West Wing for the first time — the late-90s, it turns out, is my happy place), but I’d argue that I’m just a good watcher/reader. And in the case of The Secret Place, there were only eight suspects, and only one who you would have sworn didn’t do it, and you can guess the rest. I guess we could at least agree that I’m an annoying watcher/reader to sit alongside.

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