I am outside now, standing in the shade and squinting into the unaccustomed light. Most of the doors are open but some of the windows are still covered against the chill night air. Yesterday there was a desert haze over the hills in the distance, but today is soft but clear. A black and white cat stalks through the brambles, moving surprisingly fast for the little noise he makes, and a wisp of cirrus is the only smudge on the blue sky. It is the season of mornings, of changing the tapestries in the common room for summer colours, of welcoming the warm wind as it touches my skin. The bare trees are sprouting tender buds and a huge bumblebee hovers over a warm rock.
Another summer is another opportunity, and we must make the best of it while it lasts.