The Summer House

It's a tough call - do I love this place most in winter (when the fire is roaring and it's all cosy and comforting) or in the summer?  The last few weeks I've been revelling in the sunshine, flinging open the doors and windows and letting the heady scent of the roses, jasmine and honeysuckle waft through the house.  The people who owned the house before us were keen gardeners and planted with care - everything around the house itself is fragrant (the wisteria is heaven in spring).

The terrace is the perfect place for breakfast - one corner catches the morning sun.  Equally it's ideal for sundowners - the garden faces south-west so gets sun all day and right into the evening.  Truly, it's pretty heavenly.

But, during the day, whenever I can, I grab a rug and throw myself down onto the grass.  The SP joins me, of course, and we read a book, or just snooze or muse, down by the pond,  hidden by the fuchsia and irises. The bliss of this place is that, although it is nearly in the centre of town, it's totally secluded and private.  I suppose our neighbours could look in, if they hung out their windows at an odd angle, but it's unlikely.  And the views are fabulous - over to the woods and fields on the other side of the valley.

It's not just me - Adrian has been taking his laptop out and working on the table on the lawn.

Vegetable garden