Thursday 5th April

The David Hockney show was packed. We queued for 2 hours outside the Royal Academy and then were granted admission at 1pm.  It was a fabulous show; a riot of colour and form. I've never seen his paintings on such a scale before and it was clear that his homage to his beloved East Yorkshire is a vital part of his life.


Today, Southern England is under a hosepipe pan. This form of water usage control is usually a last resort, but we've had no substantial rain for months now and the rivers are running dry. In April!
Its a reminder how much we take for granted in the natural world and, also, a reminder that our climate is changing significantly as we speak. Some computer models predict that the South of England will be more like Greece in a few decades... no more bluebells, no more soft English colours, no more greens.


Our cherry tree is peaking: we planted this beautiful tree seven years ago and it has grown about 3 feet since then, gifting us with gorgeous pink blossom for a week or two.

But the smoke bush still has no buds on it yet... although we know it will be a massive spread of splendid russets and copper coloured leaves in a few weeks time, its hard to imagine right now.


Nicholas








The clusters of flowers on our little cherry tree signal the deepening of spring; it blooms after the daffodils and crocuses have faded, responding to the warming air and the longer light.


It also reminds me of springtimes I have spent elsewhere, in particular those in New York's Central Park. Near to the 86th Street entrance, on the upper west side, there is a magnificent collection of weeping cherry trees, a winding path meandering through delicately arching branches, laden with blossoms of varying shades of pink. As spring gives way to summer, those blossoms become a fragrant carpet of petals as each step on the path releases their essence.


I particularly love this area of Central Park, as it is named for my beautiful friend, Lucy Simon...the gifted composer of The Secret Garden. Like her music, the canopy of trees invites each visitor into an explosion of beauty and gentle awakening.


How grateful I am to have sung her music and the music of so many other gifted composers, to have interpreted the lyrics of the poets, the words of the playwrights, who use 26 letters to create a dance of emotion and integrity, to have joined with other actors, singers and dancers, gathering together to tell the stories that remind us of our shared humanity, our deeper truth. 


What a privilege it is to recognise the unique gifts of each season of my life and to choose to enter this newest with joy and thanksgiving.


Judy