Notes from a small holding on the edge of the moor: the hedge, the wall, the hens, the weather, and whatever else needed doing that week.
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.
The starter is reliable now.
Second for the onions, nothing for the beans, and a first for the loaf, which surprised me more than anyone.
First swift over the barn on the fourth, screaming round the gable where the old nest boxes are.
Late cut this year, after the yellow rattle had set seed.
Set off in sun and was in cloud by the second cairn.