Despite a shockingly bad attempt at 'summer' the garden is doing its best and bursting forth. The scarlet poppies are on the cusp of exploding, they are such a treat although they don't cope with rain or wind so you have to really, really appreciate them during their brief moment of glory. There's all sorts of things self seeding in the gravel paths and there's barely elbow room in the borders. Everything is fecund ~ there's all sorts of mysterious rustlings and chirpings coming from the undergrowth. The starlings have nested and fledged and so have the sparrows at the back door. Now we are just waiting for a bit of heat, some sunshine to ripen the gooseberries and elder-flowers but, looking back, I see we are nowhere near where we were about this time last year.