The sun shines over the potato cultivar that dad, mum and I planted the 10th of March. The plants have grown, leaves and branch stems have fully developed.

A prospection reveals that tubers have begun to grow above the ground too. This is the first crop of the year. The last potatoes of the season were planted two weeks ago.

I have been abroad for a month. Before I left I visited the old willow. So many years together and I realize now that it is a different hybrid from its neighbours: even if a little bit later than the rest, catkins have sprout too.

I came back on Saturday and I found the first foxgloves shining and dancing as if bells. I heard the turtle dove.