There is nowhere as heartachingly beautiful as an English hedgerow in May. A froth of cow parsley, joyful buttercups, a haze of tiny speedwell. The grasses are tall, a few poppies dancing among them and the nettle flowers are quietly elegant. Bluebells late to flower struggle up through it all. The hazy sun has turned the dandelion clocks silvery, and unexpectedly I happen on a patch of knapweed, shocking almost in its blueness.
At home in the garden early this evening a blackbird is in his usual spot atop next door's chimney singing his heart out. None of the great composers of opera wrote anything so vital and beautiful as that song.
I love the sight, sound and smell of it all. I have lived on three continents and nothing can compare to this. The love of it is a physical pain yet also a comfort, like coming home after a long absence.
And I am really running again! For now I have a goal over the next 3 months of getting to a reasonable 10 miles. I saw the consultant today and she says I can run. My hips are ok, spine not so good. I'm living with the fear of a spinal fracture and cannot have that fear confirmed or allayed until I get scanned again in 2-3 years. That's not great to deal with but for now it is spring and I can run.