Once again, the early morning mist descends on The Enchanted Village. We are all wrapped up in a cellular blanket of fog, cocooned and safe from the outside world, but just a little bit damp.
Our only shop is still closed but there is something on our doorstep, next to the empty beer barrel that still hasn't been collected after the last Village Hall Arms before the pub's long-awaited re-opening.
It's a pint of milk brought to us by the silent milkman, who floats through the streets of The Enchanted Village like a ghost, with bottles that don't rattle. He makes his way slowly down through the village, in a job he has done for years.
Then wailing and shrieking sounds, more like peacocks than children, strike up from the village school playground. Their song becomes louder, rising into a crescendo before a clanging bell calls them into class.
Daffodils, snowdrops and primroses are popping up, the catkins dance as the dogs dash by and a wood pigeon coo-coo-coos in a duet with a rather more tuneful blackbird. It's almost spring but not quite.
The bronze nymph statue that welcomes visitors to The Enchanted Village, to Lush Places, still has her winter coat on.
That's about it.
Love Maddie x
On the first day of the New Year, brave souls in fancy dress head for the sea at Lyme Regis in the now traditional ‘Lyme Lunge’, organise...
I felt a great disturbance in the Force, as if millions of voices suddenly cried out in terror and were suddenly silenced. I fear somet...
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...
* First published 2 May 2013 The sense of anticipation is mounting here in Corfu for Holy Week. Church bells ring twice a day as the de...
Over on A Dorset Year , I'm enjoying the beauty in nature in a world gone mad. As my famous ancestor, Ernest Hemingway , would have...