The best time ...

I'm not much of a gardener. After 38 years, much of this garden looks as it did when we came here. The forsythia is gone - died quite arbitrarily one winter - and there is a philadelphus that I planted, along with the berberis that this year underwent some radical surgery. But it is the border alive with bluebells - that I suspect are harebells - and London Pride that I especially love, and they come up every year no matter what I do to them, and the lilac tree beside the shed is going to be heavy with blossom this year. Today we sat outside as the thermometer in the sun read 38ºC and the clouds to the west threatened but never came near and the met office threatened heavy rain and I felt that perhaps there will be a summer after all.

Are the jealous gods listening ...?