Country diary: Preening in the hedges, peening in the meadow | Anita Roy

Buckland St Mary, Somerset: With scything season upon us, I'm learning how to hone my bladeAfter weeks of rain, the sun is finally out. The air is washed clean, sharpened by wren trill and robin song. Each chiff and chaff passes like a whetstone, honing the edges of hedges until every leaflet and catkin stands out, sharply etched in the fresh spring light.The meandering lanes that snake through the Blackdown Hills gurgle with runoff. The steep, mossy banks are spangled with yellows of varied intensity, from soft pastel primroses to brash celandine, and the new leaves of cleavers, nettles and dog's mercury. Continue reading...