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
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