Late frost to lost socks

Weather here has been relatively mild, marking the end of Winter and heading into Spring.

Buds are forming on the trees and the rhododendrons have had flowers on for a couple of weeks now. We have our first daffodil in the front garden. It looks a little lonely on its own though.

The thing about Christchurch is that you are often lulled into a false sense of security where things in the garden are concerned. Each year since we've been here there has been a late frost in September. The poor trees and flowers suffer the wrath of this.






We head off in a week to Sunny Scotland. I keep calling it Sunny in the hope that it will give us some unseasonably warm weather when we're there. The truth of the matter is that the weather here at the end of Winter is pretty identical to what they are having on a "good day" through summer. Yesterday and today I've been in short sleeves and it is just lovely to feel the warmth of the sun on my face.






Packing our stuff is forefront in my mind. It seems insurmountable at the moment. Take yesterday, I packed most of Ella's clothes into the suitcase on our bedroom floor. I should have known to move it. Whilst in the shower this morning, Miss E calls to let me know that Master L has kindly unpacked for me and using the suitcase as a bus. I should have known, and I chose not to listen to myself. Never mind, packing the day we leave seems the most logical thing to do. Hmm.

I have a problem.

I think most people out there suffer with it. It's called "a bunch of our socks have entered the washing machine and vanished into thin air". When I say our, I think our machine likes little girls socks most.

Where do you think they go?

Yours truly

Bemused

xx