An occasional record of jobs on the holding and walks off it. Mostly written in the evening, mostly about the weather.
The bottom of the field is always three degrees colder than the top on a still night, because cold air drains downhill and pools where the hedge stops it.
Missed the signs and the big hive threw a swarm on the hottest day of the month.
The stack felled last winter has dried to under twenty percent on the meter, which is what the stove wants.
Laying drops with the light and there is nothing to be done about it short of a bulb in the house, which I do not do.
Part of the boundary wall slumped after the wet winter.
A good year for the old Bramley and the two unnamed eaters by the wall.