I spent the afternoon as I spent the previous one, planting dad-grown lavender in our recently reclaimed rockery. Low-maintenance gardening is an awful lot of work, it turns out.
I managed to disturb a rather massive common frog as I was removing the last piece of remaining turf from the rockery—I wasn't joking when I said reclaimed. I haven't seen a decent-sized frog for ages. It made my day.
By the time I called it a day at 5pm, the tail-end of Hurricane Katia was doing its best to relocate our bay tree to Norway. I sat in the wind for five minutes, admiring the rooks as they tacked in three dimensions into the storm. People don't give crows nearly enough credit for their flying skills: they really are masters of the wind. I could watch them for hours.
But I didn't watch them for hours: the breakers in my cup of tea were threatening to soak me, and I had a bay tree to move into the house.