Yesterday was one of those dank and dismal days where the sky is an unbroken grey which seems to envelop the countryside like a giant wet blanket but today was quite different . Our village is situated on the western flank of the hills which make up the Exe Valley . This morning I drove my wife to her day at the Hospice where she has settled in really well which is understandable considering how gentle and caring they are with her . As we left the village the view of the valley opens up before you and today great wafts of gossamer clouds were trapped in the valley and cleaves and were clinging to the wooded slopes of the hills . It reminded me of the magical mists of Avalon with the tops of the hills already bathed in sunlight . As we watched , the early warmth of the sun was creating updrafts which caused the white mists to swirl and dissolve heavenwards into nothingness and exposing the countryside below ; freshly ploughed fields of a rich redness which is so typical of our Devon soil . I turned off the main road and drove up the little Burn Valley with its brook which burbles and gurgles its meandering rout down to the River Exe . The banks are lined with hazel and willow under which are drift after drift after drift of snowdrops . They are such delicate plants ; the internal petals are full of lime green stripes and with a glorious yellow centre .Higher up the valley we passed fields with spring lambs . Gangs of bully boys charging round their green playground doing their strange stiff four legged jumps and head butting their friends whilst others with tails wagging in ecstasy nuzzled their patient mothers under bellies .It felt good to be alive .
At the Hospice , Veronica was warmly welcomed as usual and I left with a pang of envy -- bread and butter pudding was on the menu and I love bread and butter pudding !
