The trouble with lawns

Ours spends six month in a clay based soggy state, passes through a magic phase over Easter and then becomes a dried out, parched, wasteland over the summer.

Okay, I exaggerate.

I love lying down on my back on the lawn guessing at the shapes in the clouds.

Apparently, freshly cut grass is the nations' favourite smell.

Mountain biking to come later.

This weekend is going well.

And Easter holidays are tantalisingly close.