A lovely walk yesterday through Clyne woods and into Clyne Gardens.
The smell from the orange blossom, I think, to the right was absolutely heavenly. I could have been walking in the south of France.
When I was about 13 my mother planted an orange blossom tree in the garden so 'you can carry some blossom on your wedding day.' She died long before I was married but I made sure some of the orange blossom from the garden was included in my bouquet.
Today the smell was less pleasant or would have been had I gone close enough to sniff the valerian, or as we used to know it, the one that smells of cat pee.
That was on Mumbles Hill. I said, 'Look George, loads of rabbit poo. Go find a bunny!'
He gave me his 'Seriously? In this heat,' look. But we both know he has no idea how to hunt rabbits. Or even what a rabbit is.