Wet, wet, wet

As a neighbour noted at lunch yesterday, I have not enjoyed a single
season of dry weather since moving in to the Stone Caravan three years ago.

Well, not quite.

Spring 2007 was gorgeous. I remember limewashing the cottage in
February in shirt sleeves, then sunbathing on the rock behind the
kitchen. By May the National Park issued an early drought warning, and
banned barbecues and camp-fires. Everything seemed set for a glorious
summer - just as I prepared to quit London and move in. I packed the
hammock, and imagined lazy afternoon under the trees.

Then it started to rain - and it hasn't really stopped since (except for
the not so brief interludes of snow.)

The hillside is like chocolate mousse - and the woods are full of new
springs and streams.

Ah well - the third spring is late, but it is just about here; I saw
primroses in the bank yesterday. Perhaps the arrival of the sun will
finally herald a real summer.

Meanwhile - the Solar dehumidifier continues its heroic work keeping the
H2O at bay.

I just met my weasel - nose to nose...

... over the pond.

I've seen it before - but only as a streak of sleek red fur along the
bank behind the stream.

And I'm certainly familiar with details of its domestic live, having
followed a string a tarry black sprints back to its larder - a dead bird
carefully stashed in a hole in one of my duvets!

But this morning, as I was looking for a sheltered spot to pee in the
little wood behind the garden, I saw a small lithe mammal leap through
the comfrey leaves just below the SolarVenti intake.

And then it popped up to check me out - a tiny ginger critter, with a
white bib and a sharp little face.

Long may he or she (or they) remain, to keep the cottage mouse-free.