Country diary: the place is awhirl in the wind

Stamford, Lincolnshire: The trees are fretting. A horse chestnut, a sycamore and a now leaner birch, all of them making a squeaking creakOutside the window the landscape has changed a little and it takes a minute to work out why. A gap where something once was. Where something has fallen.The place is awhirl in the wind as I walk down the garden to its end. A wall of honeysuckle taller than me has tipped and now lies heavily on the ground, like a collapsed drunk. Continue reading...