Picking and tasting the first mixed leaves of oriental mustard in this morning's sun.
Bees are supposed to be scarce this year. Not in our garden. They are drawn to the white flowers of the cistus, never before as generous.
"Lossy, the moon in the silvery mist,
Lossy the maid alone by the lake.
Lossy the shadows that rise from the sedge,
Lossy the knight, the long night awake."
John Keats? Did he have a computer?