IV 

 APRIL IN NORTH DEVON 



SUCH a gorgeous morning. Big fleecy 

 clouds drifting across a bright-blue sky 

 before a chilly north-west wind that troubles 

 me not at all where I lie on a sheltered bank 

 in the hot sun. The Torridge runs at my feet, 

 slightly coloured by last night's rain, and on 

 the opposite bank the breeze stirs and sways a 

 belt of 'wild daffodils. Beyond them a meadow, 

 and then woods mounting up a steep hill-side, red 

 and purple with elm-tree flowers and the tresses 

 of birches. Here and there a patch of young 

 larch, with just a shimmering of green appearing. 

 The bird-life in these parts is wonderful. 

 There is a tiny patch of grass outside the window 

 of the little study where I sat writing after 

 breakfast, and on the grass we spread the 

 breakfast-table scraps. First came a couple 

 of sparrows. Then samples of three sorts of 

 tits. Then a cock chaffinch, glorious in his 

 spring plumage, and then, greatest joy of all. 



