Fresh back from Europe with food still fresh, Joao and Pete came to the wood for their first time. We drank Portuguese red wine that Joao knew, ate cheese and Sardines, talking of their days in Footsbarn Travelling Theatre (I had not realised named after Michael Foots son, Oliver). Tess swung by and played flute for us topping the evening. The fire kept us warm. Spontaneous, warm hearted.
The wood wardens and land people have half sanded the floor in the two months I’d been away, doing it in the wet of an English spring.
Wild Garlic. An adopted Tawny owl found at Holton Hall Park, cared for my MJ and Jo in my basket. The mother came by each night delivering food, like a frogs leg once a whole rat which MJ cut up with scissors.
Paul, much better but not fully recovered from Bells Palsey, thought he saw a bird coming out of the new bird nesting box – MJ’s old violin case. Lawrence Edwards at Jason’s inspired me. Such an awake man. Ros organised a gathering of women to which Yuka was the mysterious surprise guest.
Bird song. Sap green. Henry got the strimmer going and cut the verge of nettles.
Kaliwood 