Firstly, thank you for all your messages of good luck both here and on Instagram: Joe was offered a place at our little village school early on Saturday morning. I hadn't even checked my emails when a friend got in touch to ask whether he'd got in or not.
I was very relieved.
We've had a fairly quiet few days. Walking in the woods and picking nettles and wild garlic. Joe was really excited about it. He held the bag open, I collected the nettles in my pink rubber gloves.
Then we came home and made a big pan of soup (with the addition of more herbs and vegetables) and he ate it very enthusiastically. Apparently we've to go back again for more foraging. I may try making nettle bread, as kindly suggested by Christina.
Meet the new neighbours. We have, at the last count, five of these little lambs. They came nosing through the garden gate this evening before galloping off again at high speed. There will be a lot more of them yet. Watching them leap up in the air and career about is so entertaining, and their high-pitched bleating... sigh.
We're progressing with the garden and found a very healthy dicentra had suddenly sprung up along the path by the side of the house. So we moved it out to the back. I'm all for using what we've already got, and I do like cottage garden plants and wildflowers too.
We've had more snow, all mixed up with mild sunny days and dark cloudy ones. And now it's warm and bright and almost June-like. It's all a bit Forrest Gump. You never know what you're gonna get. Makes for an interesting (and challenging) Easter break/half term/whatever this fortnight is.
I've had yet another heavy cold. It seems to be one thing after another; I get well for a short while then something else comes along. And now Joe has it too - although he doesn't seem to be suffering. Yet. He did, however, take himself off to bed on Monday afternoon for a nap. That hasn't happened in almost a year.
I put my feet up and read a book, marvelling at my good fortune. Does that make me a Bad Mother? Or just an honest one?
I've been keeping things ticking over on the work front but realistically until Joe goes back to preschool next week I can't get a whole lot done. Monday morning I'll be collecting plants ready for printmaking.
We had a trip to the garden centre on Sunday. There were lots of beautiful plants to covet, like these velvety anemones and spidery orchids. But we were sensible and made just a few purchases: English bluebells and - finally - a Ribes (flowering currant).
And now I'm off downstairs for a bit of relaxation and to further ponder the question: To go grey or to continue colouring? It's been bothering me a lot lately. I've been dyeing my hair for years. Being a dark brunette means all those little silver hairs are so very noticeable.
But colouring it (at home) is such a bind. I hate doing it. More importantly, I try to eat well and avoid harsh chemicals in cleaning products. I use natural beauty products, too - so why am I tipping a box of dye on my scalp every four weeks or so? To look 'young'? Am I scared of looking as though I've 'let myself go'?
The past week I've been reading about women who've let their hair grow out. Some of them look fantastic: not washed-out (or washed-up). I'm aware of the current trend for 'granny hair', where cool girls actually colour their locks in shades of grey or Mrs Slocombe-inspired pastels. I'm not making a fashion statement. Apparently it takes around a year to grow coloured hair out completely. It can be difficult and it can make you feel incredibly self-conscious. But I'm seriously considering it.
Google 'Sarah Harris' and you'll understand why I'm asking myself whether I should bin the dye and buy some good shampoo instead.
Maybe, just maybe, I'll do it.