Summer!

Summer is here at last. We thought it would never come...

The mornings dawn bright and clear, and the deep blue sky stretches above us, uninterrupted by cloud, from morning till night. For some curious reason I am reminded of school sports day, though I can't imagine the weather was always so perfect as this.

But though we have no rain, the grass is still wet every morning from the heavy dew. As I did my garden chores this morning I kicked up my feet for sheer joy, and great showers of droplets flew out from the end of my shoes, and sparkled in the sunshine. When I looked down I saw little silvery spiders' webs in amongst the grass, twinkling as though they were spun from jewels...

Summer Not Found - Please Try Spain

After the wettest June since records began, one might have hoped that July would pull its socks up. Faint hope. We are just half way through the month, and already it has been even wetter than June.

But enough about depressing things, like the non-existent English summer! Let us talk of more cheerful topics: such as, that the baby robins are back again, with their centrically-expanding red breasts; and yesterday morning I saw what was either a baby wren or a baby gold crest hiding from the rain in the creeper above my bedroom window. The purple honey-scented buddleia is slowly coming into bloom, a clump of pink hollyhocks is growing up out of the midst of the rhubarb plant, and we have recently spotted some beautiful butterflies (species unidentified) in the garden. So life is still good! It will take more than a washed-out summer to dampen these hardened British spirits...

For a reliable weather forecast, ask the house martins...

June was over all a pleasant month - rather wet it is true (apparently the wettest since records began), but we were also treated to some blazing sunshine and brilliant blue skies. Had it not been for the strong winds, a few of the days might even have been called perfect summer weather!

I discovered something rather interesting recently. I had often heard it said that low-flying swallows are a sign of coming rain, though the clear blue skies and uninterrupted sunshine of the succeeding days clearly belied the tale; but the other day I read that this old wives' tale actually applies to house martins. It is they who swoop lower for the insects who are trying to escape the cold upper air - swallows just fly low whenever they feel like it. So when I was out walking yesterday, along the edge of a broad bean field, and I saw the house martins all around me flying as low as they possibly could, I thought I had better turn back. And sure enough, just as I reached the gate onto the road, the droplets began to fall...