Wednesday morning

Roses and the 'everlasting' sweet pea, at least the perennial pea which produces masses of long runners that flop even though I have strung them up. 

Each day I go around and look at my poor thirsty plants, but just keep my vegetables watered, and check on the bees.  Not many, though our lawn is covered in short white clover, I only ever count about 6 at a time.  George Monbiot wrote 'In Memoriam'

 "I will not allow myself to forget again: I will work to recover the knowledge I have lost. For I now see that without the power of memory, we cannot hope to defend the world we love."

Counting the insects around us and we know they have disappeared, our local 'hospital for hedgehogs' is inundated with sick hedgehogs, hoglets need feeding, their mothers lay squashed on the roads, and O by the way we won the ******* football last night, sorry but occasionally my cup overspills and roses don't compensate.  Plant foxgloves to watch the miracle of a bee gathering pollen, check that the other pollen feeders, the minute wasp like creatures are also there.

Nature is not punishing us because there is no rain, nature just works that way, but as I see the great tractors thundering by, I know the countryside is being dehumanised by industrialisation and I am powerless.

Strawberries feature at the church this weekend, which has been amalgamated into other parishes since we have no church warden.  Yesterday, Paul took my hand and showed me the new notice that has appeared on the notice board, basically because I could photograph it for him, perhaps I should take up the offer and pray for a better world, but I just know it won't happen!

Propped up against the fence is a large notice board, K has made three panels of history about the village, and both he and Paul are fixing the noticeboard, when finished and large posts have been dug into the parched earth, passing people such as walkers will be able to learn something about the village.

Though I moan about the lack of bees, one of our plum trees is heavy with green fruit, and also the cultivated (although it doesn't play the game of cultivation with its viscious thorns!) blackberries shows promise of a heavy crop.
Not forgetting to say Happy Independence Day to American readers, and there is good news, the 12 boys and their coach being found alive was wonderful...