Despite the fact the rain is lashing the window as I write, and the drip drip of the blocked gutter I should be at is sending me slowly mad, spring is in fact coming, and the bluebells will be out next month. I don’t know why people head to the South West in the summer. August is generally much like this, wet and windy, but with only autumn ahead, and long long lines of traffic heading west, so SPRING! is the time to come. The leaves are creeping out, the blossoms fill the hedgerows, the evenings are light and there’s a spring in all our steps. The roads are empty and there’s a million places to go, all beautiful, all with their own particular draw. Tulips and cherries at Forde, borders LEAPING into life at the local gardens, empty beaches at Hive, and the green fresh woods all around. Doesn’t get better than that.