At one end of the vegetable garden there seems to be a dearth of bees and butterflies in the Summer. So last Spring, across a flower bed I spread a muslin sheet impregnated, if that is the right word, with hundreds of seeds, of insect-attracting plants. The result exceeds expectation. And here is a bee, one of many which have arrived, and very welcome too.
In the train, I hear the voice of a woman behind me say to her companion, like the owner of the voice, out of sight, "I don't know why I woke up this morning panicking. I had to get up..." I think to myself that a door is left ajar revealing for a moment a glimpse of someone's entire life.
An early start this morning. The sun is low in the sky. No one is in The Grove. A freshly spun cobweb gleams behind one of the litter bins. Something you might expect in Autumn but not perhaps in July.