Bottoms up!

Apologies for the scary picture. What you are witnessing is my time honoured tradition of getting down on my knees to sniff the first primroses of spring. For it is spring, at last; even more welcome after such a long old winter.





There is a faint green fuzz covering the Cotswolds, as dead-looking wood tentatively sends out the first shoots.




Lambs are gambolling as only lambs do - some of them so new, so fragile, that they get a bit wobbly and have to lie down for a little power nap. Or stop for a snack.




So far the woods are promising many things: fat bluebell spears thrusting through the old autumn leaves, like a thousand tiny armies and honeysuckle gauzily draped round the silver birches. But only the primroses have emerged to smile at us. At times, the air is almost, dare I say it, warm. Now there's something to stick your bottom in the air about!

Whatever the weather

It is said that the British find nothing so fascinating as the weather...and why not? Especially on days like yesterday, when we dusted down the bikes and went for our first cycle of the year. Bright sunshine and the threat of torrential downpours. When we started, the clouds were gathering behind us...




But the road ahead seemed pleasant enough...



Except when looking out towards Gloucestershire, where the storm clouds were gathering. The sun was still falling across Oxfordshire though...



With some canny cycling we dodged the downpours, our route taking us round the edge of the clouds. Then the rain broke over Churchill, though we were still enjoying the sun...ten minutes later we were sheltering in an unsalubrious pig shed, an old concrete tethering affair. Nasty but dry. When we emerged, the lanes were steaming and the air was scented with wet spring flowers.