We had snow on the hill this week, and a late frost which tanned the new tips on the most tender Rhodo. I lit the fire again.

Every seedling I have put out has gone with its own EPIRB and rubber duckie to stay above the floods.

There are trees down in the paddock because it has been windy - and the ground is too wet to hold them upright.

The buttercups are acting as if they are Weed of the Year - spreading by leaps and bounds, passing the chickweed as if it had all the brakes on.

The strawberries are pale ghosts and the beans are lanky youths without a flower to their names.

I heard a rumour that Christchurch had had warm days in the 20s. We have had days in the 40s (Fahrenheit, of course.)

Nobody needs an Aussie drough - but when the icebergs are wandering up from Antarctica to see how we're doing - looks like another year with a Spring-like summer.