The Last Days of Spring

This is the last bright forget me not. The rest are dropping seeds on fading bluebells. Clearing them away is like packing up Christmas decorations. The explosion of colour, that made every corner look special, is coming to an end.

Forget me nots to be cleared away

But, unlike the Christmas decorations, there is no fuss about where everything is going to go. The bulbs and seeds pack themselves down quietly and all I need to do is clear away what’s left.

This drives the chickens into a frenzy of excitement. They rush in to scratch the bare soil and there are lucky moments for them when a stick or stone is lifted to reveal earwigs. It is dangerous for earwigs in this garden.

If I push them away, they resort to pecking me on the back. Does it mean they like me?

We have chicken fillets for dinner tonight. When I lift a chicken away from the flowerbed I can feel the chicken breast under the feathers. But I don’t feel sorry about the chicken in the fridge. (It was free range anyway).

Meanwhile, outside the garden. Kolkata has been devastated by a cyclone. On Devon Live there is news of people going to the beach and other people getting cross about ‘idiots on the beaches’.

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