Someone asked me the other day if I'd ever posted a picture of the farm and I said I didn't think I had- but perhaps I would.
I've been waiting for the light- and this morning- it arrived: a beautiful spring morning- and here's the farm looking its best. If you could get close to the daffodils you'd see they were in their last phase- beginning to turn papery- but at this distance as bright as ever. My parents planted them- over many seasons- in a circle round a cherry tree.
The house was built- we think- round about 1820. It has been added to and messed about with- and what we're seeing now is not what its first tenants saw. It was originally at the heart of a real working farm and the garden would almost certainly have been farmyard- with mud and chickens. Dig down anywhere around the house and you hit the rubble of demolished outbuildings and great chunks of rusting metal that were once bits of ploughs and tractors.