Dewi Sant

Dewi Sant is St David, Patron Saint of Wales, so a Happy Saint David's Day to you all. I don't know how to say it in Welsh, but if I keep pinging back and forward to Snowdonia (north) and Cardiff (south), I should pick it up eventually.

It's been such a springlike beginning to March. If you live in the north of England (this isn't really north, but it counts) you make the most of every breath of good weather because it might be wind, rain and sub-zero temperatures for the next two weeks. Just walking home today was a treat. An old man (or 'gadgie' as they say where I come from) was digging over his flowerbeds. The hens which live at the bottom of the row of gardens had come to inspect, and were strutting about his feet. With their full plump shape and their fine layers of feathers, they looked like well-heeled middle aged ladies who'd just been to the hairdressers.

A marmalade cat sat on a doorstep, fastidiously washing her paws. She could have popped out of a picture book. Crocuses are flourishing, white, yellow and bright orange, deep purple and mauve, all along the street. There are buds on the gooseberry bushes. Daffodils are in bud. Daffodil is the flower of Wales, so it's to be hoped that they're flowering in Cardiff.

And, wonder of wonders, a pheasant strutted across our garden this morning. I've never seen one around here before and have no idea what he was doing her, but he's welcome. To say that Much and I were rendered speechless isn't saying a lot, as he's made of stone and I've got laryngitis, but we were astonished. And thrilled.