There are twelve months in all the year,
As I hear many men say,
But the merriest month in all the year
Is the merry month of May.
(Oxford Book of Ballads)
We are certainly enjoying some perfect May weather with the temperature in the shadiest part of the garden reaching 27C(81F). It is so nice to be able to eat in the garden, starting with an early breakfast while watching the blackbirds zooming in and out of the garage with breakfast for their noisy babies. I managed to get this shot of one little open beak but Mr Blackbird soon hustled me out:
We think there are four little ones in there but it is difficult to get a good look.
Whether it's Shakespeare or H.E Bates, I can't help thinking of the darling buds of May as I look around the garden. My brother has asked me to refrain from posting lots of photos as they take too long to download, so I'll restrict myself to this peony:
"perfick" as Pop Larkin might say.
At lunchtime we watched the blackbirds still zooming around gathering food for their little ones while we ate some gorgeous local asparagus with hollandaise sauce accompanied by a perfectly chilled Chablis. I wish Mr Blackbird could have joined us but his only rest is a brief time perching on the lilac outside the garage, ensuring that no-one is following him into the nursery.
The garden ought to be declared a hard hat area as the birds skim our heads at high speed. I know that parenting is hard work but I don't think I was ever so busy as these blackbirds.
I'm heading back for the garden now: my husband has fired up the barbecue and he is cooking supper. Perfick!