Marvellous May

May promises so much: spring explodes, plants emerging, shooting...some welcome (like the self-seeded rocket and spinach which bravely endured a long winter) others not (I think of bracken... beautiful on the cliffs, not in MY garden).

The days grow so long that it seems like summer: yet, at the beginning of the month, it is cold. I regret packing away most of my warm winter woollies; socks and tights are still the order of the day. When the sun comes out, we bask in its warmth at the front of the house, sheltered from the wind, facing south. Other days and evenings, we light the fire...bizarre, as bright days descend into glorious sunsets, to be burning wood inside.

But May is filled with marvellous things, seemingly miniscule yet meaningful. My school term gallops, so fast we can barely keep up: reports are crammed in, hurriedly, with minutes to the deadline. We take the children to visit an exhibition about the Guernsey folk who, during the Occupation (1940 - 1945), were arrested, imprisoned, exiled and executed. Sobering. Sports Day, well-organised as ever. And some days off... especially Liberation Day, May 9th, when we celebrate Guernsey's liberation from Occupation by German forces. Dear Wendy came to brunch, catching us up on life and family and we remembered dear Renee... then a relaxed afternoon before going to join our friends in our home group for supper... just eight of us, fun to be together.

More fun when we went to hear Adrian and Bridget Plass: such gifted speakers, having us in helpless laughter and then the next second bringing profound God-truth in a simple sentence. What a privilege to be able to hear them here as part of the Guernsey Literary Festival.

And so many kindnesses. My colleague Barbara (Italian, teaching French, speaking fluent English) sees me limping and insists on my trying her knee brace. We have exchanged many long conversations about injured and damaged knees, discussing the merits of different treatments... The brace is highly effective and I order a similar one straight away. Dear NickyNextdoor visits with eggs, which are always pale and delightfully elongated.

My friend and colleague Carry is as thrilled as I am to see photos and videos of Cara, which arrive every couple of days. Cara is now beginning to eat solid food, delighting in feeding herself; and rolling over too, now. #soonbecrawling  Skype sessions with her are never frequent enough: we remember early-morning coffee with Cara. She sees Richard's colourful mug on the phone screen and tries to reach out to it...

The garden is growing explosively, of course: the clematis on the patio in particular is trying for world patio domination. Nellie Moser, huge, showy, a deluge of purple. I love it, not just for colour but for representing my gardening-loving Grandpa, who delighted in 'cloning' clematis and growing his own varieties. Rocket and spinach in the garden have decided to run away; the brussel sprouts went rapidly to seed.

Everywhere, farmers are hard at work: seagulls supervise, following faithfully.

Cycle rides are a joy, past fields of golden buttercups down to the orchid fields: first the purple southern marsh-orchid, then blue loose-flowered orchids (not found in mainland Britain), arriving amidst the yellow flag iris and the ragged robin. Later, we look for common-spotted and the heath-spotted orchids too. We hear the first cuckoo as swallows begin their swooping back and forth across the fields.

Then, Phil and Judy’s eagerly awaited visit arrives at last. So wonderful to have these dear, dear friends who are family to us through lovely Adele. Our times together are precious.

So we sit and chat long, share meal after meal, go on adventures together...cycle rides through the lanes, visiting the orchid fields, along the coast to have coffee at Richmond Kiosk. We visit the Trepieds dolmen up on the Catioroc, meeting a lady with a dog Jack Russell terrier named Pickle who knows the Other Patterdale on the island, living at the Collenette Hotel. That Patterdale doesn’t ‘do’ acquaintance with other dogs, either.

Then off to Sausmarez Manor to a Grand Plant Sale - so many knowledgeable gardeners. Judy finds agapanthus and other plants, I come home - not having intended to purchase anything - with a solanum jasminoides, which Judy assures me is a beautiful, scented climber.
We even fitted in a visit to the Manor's Sculpture Park and wonderful sub-tropical gardens.

Tokerau

Hmm. I wasn't sure about camping at a 'proper' camp site again. We'd stayed in DoC (Department of Conservation) sites with Cat and Andy - simple, lots of space, almost no people. Houhora had had a few people staying but also a large number of 'permanent' caravans and mobile homes. OK, but too crowded for our liking.

However, Tokerau, on the Karikari peninsular, was so lovely that we stayed 2 nights.  (We can't seem to stay away: this was our third visit to this remote and empty piece of New Zealand.)  There was practically no one else in the 'holiday park', so we picked a site overlooking the beach within easy sound of the surf. The beach wasn't ninety miles long - 'only' approximately 15 or so kilometres - but a beautiful expanse of flat sand. Seeing the cars driving up and down, I realised why the sign at the beginning of the peninsula read 'Use Inland Road when flooded' made sense: many drivers used the beach road instead of the tarmac.

We cycled for miles; listened to the tui and the oyster catchers; watched the sunrise. Perfect.

Biking

Hung on the back of The Monster have been two mountain bikes: wow, have they been useful. We've been able to get about on them most days: early in Maitai Bay sunshine, dodging sunshine, showers and rainbows at Houhora; whizzing along the sandy beach at Tokerau; up and down the switchback road along the spine of a peninsula near Kerikeri.

We achieved approximately 25 miles along the beach in a couple of hours; a mere 7.5 up and down the hills.

I've cycled further and endured more hills - up and down - in a few days than I have in a year.

Cycling, recycling, shopping, soothing

The sun came out today - the weather was already warm early in the morning, and it stayed like that all day, feeling like summer at last.

So I scurried around, catching up on a few jobs which had been trying to catch my attention for the last few weeks. (I usually have to see a problem twenty or more times before I'll do something about it - the stuff on my desk which needs filing, dusty corners, a spot on the carpet which needs to be cleaned...) Then I whizzed off on my bike. And do I feel good about that!

In an hour I combined exercise with recyling our cardboard, cans and bottles, then stocking up with fruit and veges on my way back. The roadside stall now sells fresh red peppers and luscious aubergines, begging to be roasted or barbecued. I was lucky to get there before everything was sold out.

Not to mention refreshment for my soul. The sea sparkled, the rocky outcrops begged, as ever, to be explored and the sand glistened. I cycled past, drinking it all in, hardly noticing the time. Guernsey is such a wonderful place to be.

Danger on the roads

Boy, I live a dangerous life when I cycle. I’m not talking about the traffic, either, though that always has its challenges. It’s the wildlife.

Last night a panther leapt out of the hedge and landed, snarling, on the road a couple of metres in front of me. I expected it to lope on across to the other side, but instead it crouched, glaring at me, ready to spring. I slammed on the brakes, yelling in fear of the impending collision. This galvanised the creature into action. It sprang forward, out of harm’s way, while I cycled swiftly on before it could turn and come after me.

This morning, a pterodactyl skimmed past my face, its fearsome claws just inches from my eyes. Further down the road, I had to slow right down for a pair of enormous water birds, cycling cautiously behind them until I could pick the right moment to overtake. Their beaks snapped angrily as they realised my ankles were no longer within reach. Looking behind me to make sure I was safe, my wheels almost skidded on the still warm remains of a porcupine – a victim of the vicious predators which roam our roads. Giant hornets and oversized mosquitoes stung my unprotected hands and face as I toiled up the final hill.

Okay, I nearly ran over a cat, dodged a low-flying blackbird, had to slow down for a couple of ducks waddling down the lane and saw a squashed hedgehog. And there were a few insects in the air. But who knows what might be round the next corner?