"It's not supposed to rain," she says
"It's not raining hard," I reply. "It may just be a passing cloud that's stooped too low. Which" I add, rather pleased with myself,"Sounds like a line of Georgian poetry."
Planes fly over the farm occasionally now- and not continuously as they did before covid. Will we ever go back to how things were? I hope not.…
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Chris has moved the pony and donkey out of our field and into Julia's. This will allow the grass to recover- and means I can potter around out…