The heady scent of apple blossom hangs thick in the air, and I open all the windows this long weekend to let those aromas inside on the wafting summery breeze.
In the gardens, I dig some weeks out to make room for the sprouting heirloom peonies we rescued from an abandoned farm long ago, cut some tender asparagus spears for dinner, and contemplate young rhubarb stalks for a desser 'fool' tomorrow, having a short conversation with a startled toad who has made his home in the raspberry canes.
At the end of the day it's cider on the veranda with a hundred songbirds providing the orchestral backdrop.
It's a short season. But oh, so beautiful.
Dark earth. Birdsong. Buzzing bees. And one fat toad.