Emerging pussy willow, dung spread fields, sodden log piles and a saturated, watercolour sky.
It is half past seven in the morning as I walk the spaniels down through the village. But it might as well be the middle of the night. Curtains are closed, with just the odd light here and there indicating someone is up and having breakfast.
I feel like a benign stalker as I glance around me. Night Nurse is still in bed (as usual), as are Manual and Mrs Regal Bird. There is no sign of life at Tuppence's house as I push a note through the catflap. And the Sheepwashes are still snuggily tucked up when I walk past their cottage at ten past eight.
The Champagne-Charlies are awake, thanks to the morning alarm call of our barking dogs excited at going for a walk. And I see the shapely silhouette of Poshy Totty behind her kitchen window, dishing up something for the children and her husband, MDF Man.
Mr Grigg will be sorry he missed that, I think.
Walking back up through the village, I meet Mr F-Word, a retired chef, walking down the road clutching the Daily Mail he has just picked up from the shop.
'Everyone's still asleep,' I say. 'All the curtains are closed.'
'Ah,' he says, patting the dogs, 'that's because they're all in love.'
That's about it.
Love Maddie x
Down in the depths, Boris and his sirens have slunk into the shadows. 'There is no plan,' they say in unison, sniggering behind...
In a parallel universe, my book, Good Morning Corfu: A Year on a Greek Island is going down very well, like ouzo and iced water in the vi...
Living in Greece for the past couple of months, I've been asked what the refugee situation is like here. Well, to be perfectly hones...
We've just picked up a vehicle for my big brother from Kostas and Antonis at the appropriately-named Sunrise Car Hire. They'r...
While thinking today about my speech for Number One Daughter's wedding on Saturday, and in between times when I should have been working...