When we walked in fields of gold

Now that "spring has sprung", mother nature's
creation of new life, seems more poignant than

ever. I must confess that, like C, my favourite season, due to the dramatic colour changes, has always been autumn - However, the new buds, bulbs and flowers, combined with the shrill of courting birds, has proved to be a welcome tonic, as I move forward.

I live on the Glos./Herefords. borders, and this area is well known for it's wild daffodil fields at this time of year. We always enjoyed a trip to the Kempley daffodil walk, and felt so lucky and privileged to listen to the tourists commenting on the surroundings. Even now, I can hear C giggle and say to me, with the look of an excited child; "we live here". Although both "incomers", we were immensely lucky to have found such a lovely area to live in.

Years ago, before Dr. Beeching took his axe to the old railway network, locals would be busy around now, picking daffs, to be taken by railway, direct to London, to be sold next day on the London wholesale markets. Nowadays, the commercial sale of this local crop has ended, but the "daffodil walks" still prove popular with visitors.

I'm very lucky, my neighbours opposite have a wild crop of their own, away from the eyes of the visitors, which seems to expand further into one of their orchards each year. It's a little oasis of gold, in a quiet field, in a quiet corner of England. Not far from where the war poet, Rupert Brooke stayed before going off to fight in "the war to end all wars".

As well as the daffs, piglets and lambs, there's also been another new arrival at the farm. The first male child to be born there in over 100 years. Those of you who followed C's blog will have read of the country wedding we attended two summers ago. Well the stork has arrived and delivered a beautiful bundle of joy.

Mother nature is all powerful - As she takes with one hand, she gives with the other.