Yesterday the first daffodil heads in our garden flopped horizontal, ready to open.
It rained in the morning. I'd been busy writing, then walking with Dave under a grey sky to Hassop Station for a coffee, then sewing dolls' patchwork quilts for Lux:
|Eat your heart out Audrey Hepburn|
because next week I am flying to Colorado to visit them.
Lux has put me on the calendar:
But in the afternoon there was a perfect March sky - bright sunshine and a mixture of grey and white clouds scudding across a brilliant blue. I was too tired for a bike ride, but desperate to get out under that sky, so I walked to the village to catch the afternoon post. And I needed no gloves!
This morning there is snow on the limestone edge behind our house. I am sitting cosily in bed as I write to you. But in Calais, refugees have had their "homes" demolished and many have nowhere to go. And on the Greek border in Idomeni, refugees - many of whom are children - are being teargassed. And in the US of A, Donald Trump is threatening yet more dystopia. This is spring, 2016.
You can donate to Medecins Sans Frontieres for their work with refugees here.