Sunday, April 18
Today the sun pours down all day. I spend some of the day painting and oiling, and some of the day sitting and playing on the wobbly thing on the terrace.
I still find it extraordinary the way that the bees and butterflies all arrived in huge numbers on exactly the same day. One day: nothing, the next day: a garden full of buzzing and flapping insects.
The oil will take the rest of the day to dry and so entering and leaving will take on an element of comedy.