I started to weed out the bolted kale yesterday evening while an enormous block of cumulus hung exactly above the roof and threw out enough drops to make me nervous for the camera. The cat sat firmly on my fava beans and chewed grass. I abandoned my weeding and concentrated on picking our supper salad: cresses and mustards and spotted lettuces and a few whiskers of dill, and un-sat-on fava leaves, peas, and young lamb's quarters.
The rain came down while the sun shone and I disappeared back down the hatch to rescue our spatchcocked chicken, which was browning very nicely in a hot oven.
It was a warm day. The black spot is creeping into the Iceberg, the terrace is becoming a jungle - overnight, it seems. Lilies are already almost as tall as I am, and I have begun to support them to prevent unseemly leaning.
We should all be so lucky...