The sun is up, the sky is blue, and I'm at the allotment. My spade is sleeping, because today I'm here to harvest.
I amble between the verdant beds. The strawberry plants are bare at last. A couple of courgettes have reached maturity; maybe we'll fry them in butter alongside dinner.
I check the nettle soup - it's brewing well - and pluck an occasional weed, more from habit than neccessity.
My neighbour wanders over to compliment my squash. We assess the weather, and critique the slug threat level. He meanders off to examine his cabbages.
That's enough for now, time to go home. Maybe I'll drop by tommorrow after work.