1. The first wild garlic leaves of the year are starting to uncurl.

2. In John’s absence, I finish my big project a day ahead of schedule. I’m glad to have finished it (for now) but at the same time, sad because I haven’t been as energised or fulfilled by something for a long, long time. Thankfully though, my “what’s next?” list is epic.

3. I don’t notice that I’ve gone to sleep; all I know is that an hour has gone by, someone is walking up the stairs and someone else, a canine someone, is banging her tail in delight against the duvet.

1. The fluffy doxie pulls at the slim red lead; the stocky boxer dangles from the swinging blue rope.

2. A slim packet of thread arrives in the post. I turn it over and over again enjoying the colours. Considering they were a random assortment, selected quickly via an imperfect screen, they are absolutely perfect.

3. We enjoy the word “blurt”.

1. Watching old cats – Carla first, then later Feb from next door – enjoying the new sun. Carla rolls on her back and has a wash, while watchful, wary Feb blinks in the light.

2. I trim out the excess, creating space for a new scene. I’m proud of the neatness – and poetry – of the result.

3. Filling in the background texture for my embroidery was tedious last week but this week, I actively choose to do it, enjoying the simple repetition. My hands effortlessly move back and forth while Bill Bryson tells us about tea, the brick tax and the viral element of the Columbian Exchange.

1. The chickens all talk at once from their safe retreats: “there was a mink,” they call, “just there, just now”. Then later, as we pile bricks and stones to block the hole, they peck around us, relaxed and nosy once again.

2. Tiny silver bubbles decorate the damaged flesh.

3. We laugh about how there is a cluster of girls and a separate pair of boys but looking at the bigger picture, we’re all sat together really. Lily, Carla on my knee, me, B and John.

1. Sunlight peeks in. The plants glow in gratitude.

2. The sulky tired dog has gone away and happy Lily has returned. She rolls on her back, grunting, with a chunk of bone in her mouth. Her tiny white teeth look brand new against her bubblegum pink gums.

3. Rusty red thread tied in knot after knot. A pattern emerges.

1. Parcels filled with colour: dusky pink and warm purple zips, sandy felts, and wool the colours of a cottage garden in June.

2. The garden smells of wood smoke; the cat’s head of a sauna.

3. The biscuit’s satisfying crunch.