It’s Mother’s Day here in the UK. Traditionally known as Mothering Sunday, our day for all things motherly falls on the middle Sunday of Lent. Which means that, like Easter, it’s a moveable feast.

In the ‘olden days’, girls and boys in service would be given a day’s leave to go home, and would often take flowers and a simnel cake with them. The cake (it being Lent) would be kept until Easter, which is the day we more usually associate it with now.

Well I’m cakeless, but armed with flowers….and off to pay a surprise visit to my lovely Mum (so I’m hoping she doesn’t read this before I get there!).

If you’re wondering what the photo has to do with anything, it’s one of her favourites. In fact, it hangs on her kitchen wall as a canvas print.

Now remember - if you see her, mum’s the word!

And if my surprise is sprung, then Happy Mother’s Day, Mum!

You might also like to read this tribute to my mother...

Okay, so the photo on the right bears only a very tenuous connection to today’s story. But it’s the best I can do.

The vital bit of the picture is the particular pool via which I‘m waving at you (pond would be too grand a word for this over-large puddle up on the moor). Now bear with me - it’ll make sense in a minute.

On Thursday, a friend was lamenting that the frogs who annually grace her garden pond had not yet put in an appearance this year. Lo and behold, the very next morning, as I was scrambling down the bank to this pool, dozens of frogs leapt for cover.

They’re camera-shy, these fellas and lasses; so there’s absolutely no chance of me getting a picture of them without a great deal of stealth and a very different lens to any I possess. So you’ll have to imagine the scene: little back legs up-ended in the air, splashes and droplets flying left, right and centre. Then stillness. At least visibly. Audibly, the air was busy with what sounded like the hum of a motorbike (and, Joanne, I never would have described their croaking that way if you hadn’t pointed it out, but that’s exactly what they sound like!).

I went back today hoping for another glimpse but they must have heard me coming. No sign. Except for the masses of frogspawn around the edge of the pool.

But I’m tickled pink to have seen these harbingers of spring and hope I get to enjoy more of their antics. And I sincerely hope Joanne’s mini motorbikes turn up soon.

I've just bought a bunch of white roses.

Nothing unusual in that.  I always have flowers in the house.  And these, despite their opulence, were inexpensive and cost no more than I usually spend.

So what's the story?

Well, usually, a bunch as large as this would sit on the kitchen table.  Or have pride of place in the sitting-room.  But instead I've put them in the bathroom - purposely because having a big jug of roses in my tiny bathroom feels ludicrously decadent.  Makes them even more of a treat.

What gesture of extravagance will you lavish on YOU this weekend?

It’s been balmy and sunny and spring-like this week. The temperatures have risen comfortably above freezing and the skies are blue. Suddenly the long, snow-filled winter seems a distant memory. Lambs are playing in the fields, and snowdrops and crocuses are blooming freely.

To celebrate this heady shift in the seasons, we took off to a neighbouring valley today. There we scrambled along the river that winds through woodland until we reached the old mill. Then we left the water behind and climbed up through the trees and onto ‘the tops’.

We shed our coats as we walked and basked in the unaccustomed sunshine. When we lost our way, we really didn’t care. We were buoyed by the warmth and the light and that primeval soaring of the spirits that comes each year with the first scent of spring.

Wherever you are today, I’m wishing you blue skies, too.

Sometimes I take a trip and come home with no souvenirs of any kind.

Not so this time!  Here are a few of the goodies I brought back from New York.

Top:

Hat and wristwarmers from Flirt boutique in Brooklyn.  Ring from the Brooklyn Flea.

Bottom left:

Paperblanks journal.

Bottom centre:

Cashmere yarn from Purl.

Bottom right: 

A chartreuse green toothbrush (my favourite colour at the moment!).

So after the flock of hens I've had charge of all winter had moved on to pastures new yesterday, I found a parting gift of three last eggs.  Thank you, girls!

I didn't expect the new pullets to start laying for a while yet; but, when I went to shut them up for the first time this evening, there was a beautiful, dark brown egg waiting for me.  It wasn't in the nesting boxes but lying right by the door - as if the hen who laid it wanted to make sure I found it.

We're off to a happy start.  I know we're going to get along just fine.

Yesterday he said goodbye to the thirty or so feathered ladies who've kept him company all winter.

Today he agreed to share his roost with three new flamboyant females.

I'll bet there's many a man wishes he could acquire (or dispense with) a harem as easily as that!

The balmy spring weather has created such fantastic reflections in the reservoir that I just had to break out of my usual thrice-weekly posting schedule to share this with you.

Wishing you pockets of deep calm this weekend...

Five of the ten women who sewed the quilt.  From left to right: Joanne, Melanie, Vicky, Susan and Jane.

When I left England to live in the States, a few of my friends painstakingly stitched a quilt as a parting gift for me. Most of them had never tried their hands at patchwork before, yet they created a true heirloom. Their beautiful present hung on the wall in my Arkansas home for the three years I lived there, reminding me that I was loved and remembered.

The girls kept stitching after my quilt was done. And more friends joined their number. Today, the local newspaper turned up to photograph their latest creation (pictured above) - a gorgeous quilt of their own design which is to be raffled to raise money for The Children’s Society.

I’m planning to be first in line for tickets. And cheering them all the way.

So what exactly have I been doing in New York?

Answer: Attending a writing retreat run by the amazing Jen Lee.

I crossed the Atlantic last week with anticipation but few expectations. I didn’t want to set myself up for disappointment. But disappointment was not on the agenda. This gathering of sixteen strong and beautiful women delivered the goods in spadefuls.

Together we shifted boundaries and blasted open the doors of possibility. We told stories with laughter and received tales with tears. We revelled in companionship and support of the highest order. And moved into our futures with courage and with hope.

When an experience is as profound as this one was, I find it’s useful to keep a physical token of what’s happened - a sort of proof that it was real. And when, during my last hours in New York City, I came across a turquoise ring at the Brooklyn Flea, I knew I’d found my symbol.

Inexpensive and of little value to anyone else, this ring now holds immense significance for me. It’s a reminder of truths discovered and intentions stated; a prompt to be brave and resolute; a tangible, solid entity I can touch….and know I’m cradled by the energy of incredible women.

Jen is holding another retreat in April. If it calls to you, go. You won’t be sorry. It could just change your life.