Tag: spring

27 & What a load of old Wallabies… Seb: If only it was the 27th of April! Or Week 27 of the project! Alas. Either way, there are baby lambs ALL over the fields at the moment and they’re incredibly cute. It’s amazing, the contrast between the winter-slumbering greys and blacks and whites of Norway, and the vibrant, lively greens of England. I am beginning to see why people love England so much, despite how mediocre and temperate it often…

Oh come on, it’s almost as if they were named for the sole purpose of creating mirth and uncontrollable bouts of the giggles. Why oh why are they called TITS? The derivation would suggest it comes from some old meaning of ‘tit’ that means small, or perhaps similar to ‘tip for tap’ (tit for tat). Anyway, here in Sussex, we have lots of tits. Every year we seem to have more, probably because they tell tales of our house during…

After yesterday’s deep-and-meaningful entry I feel it my duty, as your charismatic host, to break the pensive and thoughtful atmosphere. That’s another thing you might’ve noticed: I like to mix things up; I love keeping people on their toes. I revel in blowing the dust off and sparking far-flung reaches of your brain into frantic activity. It’s also about my own personal enjoyment though: variety is the spice of life, right? And you have to admit, you have no idea…

She swings back and forth with a gleeful grin on her face, challenging herself with each swoop to reach a little higher, a little further, her pink-painted pointed toes cramping from the strain. She loves the bright, fresh days of spring; the crocuses, followed by the daffodils and the unfurling of lime-green leaves on trees. Leaning back, curling legs underneath, tightening her grip on the hemp rope and opening her eyes wide she looks up into the boughs of the…

(There are photos further down, so if you don’t like reading and stuff, just scroll down.) In the spring, in May, England is blanketed in beautiful blooms and that gorgeous, bitter lime green of plants coming back to life. In the summer, for those glorious two weeks, England is lovely, lazy and hazy, but a little humid. In the autumn we have acre upon acre of auburn, golden, crinkly-leaved forests to walk through. Crunch, crunch. The sun, an hour before…

It’s a slow, sunny Saturday and my house is empty. Before I go and watch Dollhouse — the fabled ‘good episode’, according to Whedon and Dushku, that we’ve all been waiting for — I thought I’d share a photo of a rather large bumble bee that flew into my room earlier. I don’t know if it’s a queen bee, but I think you only usually find queen bees at this time of year, right? As they are searching for somewhere…