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.