Spring is sprung

And dem boidies are singing their little hearts out. Mr. Blackbird (Turdus merula) in a cherry tree down the road gave me the most soaring, liquid arpeggios yesterday when I paused to chat. It's getting into rhododendron bloom season at the Botanics, a time R. and I particularly enjoy. Once she's back on her feet, one of our first duties will be to make the annual homage to them.

Delightfully, R. is making a robust recovery after her boxing match with a surgeon's knife. When I visited yesterday, her hospital bedspace looked like a florists' shop and was headily scented- this is a well-loved woman who's been entertaining a steady stream of visiting friends, colleagues and family. Her biological family are in Prague for the moment, but last night her adopted dad (a.k.a. my dad) visited for an hour or so.

My sisterly job is to help out with small practical errands, like topping up her phone yesterday and dealing with urgent emails. Today I'll go shopping for some new jammies for her on the way in to see her. I had time and notice to buy some decent sleepwear before I went into hospital to have the kids, but emergency surgery doesn't grant this privilege. Meanwhile, during visits and phone chats I make it my business to do my best, cruelly, to make R. laugh. It hurts her poor stitches, but it's getting less sore for her every day- a measure of recovery.