There are cobwebs glistening, laden with jewels of dew, between the stems of some shrubs in the front garden this morning. The sun is streaming through them and the early mist is transforming this familiar scene into an ethereal and wondrous vision of light.
The dampness is weighing down the vegetation at the bottom of my garden at the back of the house; what were tall wild plants are now beginning to sigh and lie down across the soil, ready to impart some nourishment into the earth and deposit their seed for the next generation. I know that I should be doing something about this too wild and verdant patch of ground, but I love the tangle and the smell as I wade through it. These so called weeds, a little out of hand even for me, are beloved by the birds and other wild things, I shall leave them for a little longer before attempting some order.