To adorn and perfume those sweet meadows in June

I had a lovely walk with the dogs this afternoon. The sun was shining, there was a pleasant slight breeze, and the birds were singing, even the buzzards circling high aloft were mewing. We walked through the flock of sheep (dogs still on leads of course) to the second field where they could be let loose. The hedges were blooming with flowering elder, honeysuckle and dog-roses, their scent adding to the warm smell of the newly cut hay. If only that combination of aromas could be bottled. Perfect. It is at moments like that when I realise there is no other place I would rather live.

And thanks are due to the Blogring’s Foreign Correspondent, ScottJ, who was enormously helpful to me in the chatroom, pointing me towards a much more useful online American dictionary than the one we’ve been using at work, and also proving that he wasn’t cutting leather* when he should have been attending history classes at school. He’s saved me quite a few hours of work, so a big cyber-hug is winging its way across the Pond. Thanks, Scott!

*He and I were both startled to discover the original meaning of 'skiving'. He was also surprised to discover it meant 'goldbrick'. I was surprised to learn that 'goldbrick' meant 'bunk off'.

Random observation: the peel I’ve just removed from a Clementine smells just like gin. *goes to fetch glass of tonic to soak it in.*

CNPS: 48