There is colour showing now on the buds of the as yet unidentified St. Johnswort and the greater bird’s-foot trefoil will not be far behind in sending its yellow slipper flowers from Our Lady’s pincushions in which they lie.
There are still a few pale blue forget-me-nots, but they will fade soon. They seem particularly appropriate for the day on which our much loved granddaughter Elly has gone to stay with an aunt and will no longer be a constant spirit of joy and delight around our house. Almost every day she came with me to Emthree and wondered at the magical world of woodlice and snails under the stones and stumps. Once again I will have to make my visits alone, but they will be full of memories. Fare well little girl.
But an enchantment of hope brightened my reflections. As I stood on Troy Track a tiny wood mouse peeped out from under the yew log Elly loved to roll back. She pottered across Submespilus Assart, her sleek coat shining with movement like bright brown water. Then she was on Troy Track and climbed first on one of my shoes, then on the other before carrying on with her journey into the depths of the long grass.
I am, of course, much too sensible to believe that our magic granddaughter has learned to shape shift, but I have never before had a mouse explore both my shoes like that, and the route she took was very much over the ground where Elly is sitting in the picture above.