The aroma of fresh, wet grass, the tickle of soft pollen, the chirps of swallows and finches, the humm of tiny flies, sprinkled as gold

The aroma of fresh, wet grass, the tickle of soft pollen, the chirps of swallows and finches, the humm of tiny flies, sprinkled as gold
This merry month has shot through the soil in the Ribble Valley. Within days the last sycamore and oak has budded or sprung into leaf, towering