Sometimes I wonder whether walking in the country isn't the most boring thing in the world.
And then the sun comes out and baaam!
The palest of yellow primroses have completely overtaken the grass verges - not to mention my garden.
The yellowest of daffodils that have finally come out of their tight green buds.
Seriously buttery celandines that are about a month late but there they were stealing the limelight from the whitest of white aconites. Some had decided to shrug their shoulders and turn their pink backs on the sun. I don't blame them the sun has been pretty miserly this year wouldn't you say?
And just when you thought it was safe to go back into the hedgerows out flew a squirrel, two sparrows and a swallow. It felt like a 'B' movie with a cheesy director who shouted ACTION. I laughed out loud.
Today I walked the orchard.
I was stood down from the Marathon so Gods Gift and I made the most of an unusual Sunday together.
Past the budding apple and pear trees, round the bend, over the style and down the hill through a slalom of mole hills, the size of mountains.
Down the slope and the stream had been re-banked. The water was screaming its way round bends and through the wild garlic.
I took a jute bag and picked enough garlic leaves to make wild garlic pesto, wild garlic soup, and just enough left to shred into a salad. I could hear myself thanking each leaf as I pulled at it, tearing it away from the white flower buds. Two old buggers foraging for supper. Better get used to it what with the way money is at the moment....
Then we had lunch in our local pub. Interesting the whole place was packed with families, with grannies and grandpas, the beer and wine flowed. The sun shone and there didn't appear to be a hint of a recession anywhere.
The dawter arrived from London. Told us we didn't look comfortable in the place, well we weren't actually, but the food was good.
I've got nothing against people who have saved well, and looked after their pensions well, but there was a smug aroma that swirled around the place. The smell of dispassionate complacency, with London only 51 miles away it was clear the 'haves' had it over the 'have nots'.
My garden is primrosed out. The Tulip Tree and the Magnolia Stellata are popping their buds. The lawn is covered in daisies and the vegetable beds are waiting to be planted up. If the weather warms up the Magnolia flowers wont turn brown.
I'm writing Watch Wiv Muvver 11 and picking the ants off the computer. The 'oosbind tells me they like electrical equipment. They'll have to go I'm not sharing my lap top with nobody.,
The garden was thick with frost this morning, the sun melted it, but now the temperature has dipped again.
I'm off to make me soup. I've made the pesto, but neither the old man or myself will eat I'm too full of Salad Nicoise and he's up to his neck in roast beef.
Wild Garlic Pesto.
Take a load of freshly picked leaves.
Brazil nuts - I'd run out of walnuts.
A little bit of leek.
A hunk of raw cheese - chedder.
That much olive oil
A soupçon of salt.
And a squirt of Agarve syrup
Whizz it up and......
Bob's your aunties brother.
Tastes lovely and is as green as my valley.
To all you marathon friends - well done.
And to the rest of you have a good week.
Jeni Barnett tells of her scrumptious time at Good Food Live in her first audiobook! Download NOW from iTunes