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Today was utterly stunning. Blue sky and sunshine lit up Trosa. Okay, Zumba was once again cancelled but that did not put the kybosh on the day. Instead, Mirinda and Nicoline took Emma for a walk while I looked after Freya and made a load of wild garlic soup.
The soup was a great success, along with the wild garlic pesto I made yesterday. Mind you, the soup was not as virulent as the pesto. Probably a good thing given the pesto looked somewhat radioactive.
And speaking of wild garlic…when we went to pick it the other day, I mentioned how much I liked Nicoline’s wicker basket, saying that I should get one rather than use a plastic shopping bag. Then, today, following the disappointment over Zumba, she turned up with a basket for me.
I immediately filled it with the remaining leaves.
I particularly like the pink trim.
She is such a generous friend. We really lucked out booking her Airbnb then attending her Not a Garden Party.
Later in the day, I was taking the recycling out to the bin when it suddenly struck me that our front garden was looking almost Wordsworthian. Perhaps not in quantity but definitely in sentiment.
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
I was also reminded of Farnham and the daffs outside my garden office. Every year, they brightened many a day. I hope they are still doing that.
