Well, it was the greyest weekend in Dorset. The flat grey light of late January, the month that seems to last always about a week too long, and that certain knowledge that we still have harsh winter days to come. (although I will say, it was a beautiful sunshine-filled day in London today).
So I couldn’t help, tonight, casting my eyes back to High Summer 2023 – mid June to mid July.
How extraordinary the intense blue of a high summer sky, how ridiculously leafy the green, how absurdly the flowery, it all seems to our eyes that are now used only to bare twigs, brown earth, grey sky. 
A good friend of mine always says that March is the hardest month, because you realise just how long it is before the spring really strikes, how many weeks to go before the leaves really break. But what would summer be without winter, and vice versa.
From time to time it’s good to jump ahead to the future by looking back. And no better need of these photographs, of Charlie’s serene, summer-bursting garden, than right now.
It’s not much to go on, just yet, but look at this daffodil that I spied in Red Lion Square walking up from the station to the office this morning. 
This was a very short blog, but I think a necessary one.
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