True hope is swift

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“True hope is swift, and flies with swallow’s wings.”
William Shakespeare

And so again, another weekend of rain, mist, fog and vicious winds. No walks on the downs, no cycle rides along to the nature reserve, and worse than that – again no gardening.

Summer seems a very long way away sometimes.

I’ll know it is here when I’m standing at the bus stop and I can hear the shrieks of the swifts as they dance and swoop above the Seaford skies. Then they will be everywhere, swallows, swifts and house martins, over the fields, the downs and the valley.

And when Summer is nearly over and they are ready to leave, I’ve even seen swallows swooping and feeding high over my garden, getting their fill of English flies, before they fly thousands of miles back to Africa for the Winter.

I miss you, come back soon and bring the sunshine with you!

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One swallow does not make a spring, nor does one fine day, Aristotle

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