Today it was about time to mow the lawn for the first occasion this year. I say 'lawn' although most of it is either moss or beds of lesser celandine at the moment, and I avoided the flowering primroses, too.
Isaiah the prophet says 'How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those who bring good news!' The Rectory garden is steep but not exactly mountainous, and the camellias don't have feet in any normal sense, but they are indeed beautiful and always seem like a sudden burst of shocking-pink joy against the old wall next to the grapevine. If they bring any news, it's only 'we're still alive and so are you!' which is probably good, at least for most of the people I know.