I enjoy being out front and out of doors. It appeals to the nosey side of my nature as I can watch folk come and go. I’m a big fan of saying hello to people as they walk by and we are fortunate to live in a town where that still happens.

I picked up this wooden wheelbarrow while thrifting in the late summer. It holds a solitary pumpkin and a rather poor excuse for a witches broomstick but I hope to remedy that this week. You see, I have discovered a love for decorating the front garden that is rather addictive. I feel very fortunate as we appear to be living in a street where the chances of my wheelbarrow or other decorative accouterments being stolen are rather slim so I feel tremendously free to continue making little scenes and scenarios for folk to eye suspiciously as they wander by. In England we don’t, as a rule, decorate the outside of our houses in the same way as people do in, say, the USA. Don’t get me wrong, people take great pride in their gardens but the decorating is usually saved for Christmas time. I am a huge fan of celebrating EVERYTHING and can usually find even the tiniest excuse to celebrate something  and therefore translate this celebratory excitement into something new to do to the outside of the house. I think Robert finds this a little extreme, but is slowly getting used to the colonisation of every inch of the house by me and my flights of decorative fancy.

I’m just so taken by the beautiful, clear and watery bright days that we are having at the moment, so it seems a shame to waste them by being indoors when I can snuggle up and be out of doors.

I’m beyond caring about people thinking that it’s odd to be sitting on a bench, wrapped up in a quilt while reading in my front garden. This is a newly found freedom, I hasten to add, as most of my mistakes in adult life have always been caused by worrying about what people may think but when it comes to tiny, joyful activities such as this it really is worth the odd look of “Bloody hell, what is she doing? Odd bod!!”