One morning, wandering in a patchwork blanket called the South Downs...
...a poppy invites me to sit with him a while in the sun (and wind, and rain).
Back in the grotto, the bunting is stitched and tied to the ceiling, and a patchwork (of more modest proportion) is hatched...
...while this brazen fellow clamps himself to my thread tin, determined to complete his highly confidential Daddy long legs mission (which seems to involve staying still for three hours gazing into a gold lid).
Outside my door, the leaves jostle like bejewelled fish...
Brrr, back into the nest.
"There's blackcurrant tea, it's nigh on four..."
(said the crimson cloaked pixie who swings by the door),
"I'm back from the menders with boots of bright red..."
"...and a velveteen hood which will keep warm my head."
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