Friday 4th June

Day 46

All the doors and windows are open, summer blowing in through the house, bumble bees and black flies careering into mirrors.

My biggest pan is sitting on the hob, full of chopped sticks of rhubarb bubble plopping in pink syrup.Perched gracefully on top are 6 lacey heads of elderflower, wilting in the steam, releasing their hot June scent into the kitchen. And flavouring the rhubarb with honey and the memory of summer when we have it in a pie next winter.

Earlier when I washed the delicate elderflower sprays, some of the blossom fell on the counter like a sprinkling of tiny stars. They reminded me of minature cardigan buttons that my mother kept in her black tin button box along with a hundred others, each with a garment story to tell. I loved streaming my hands through them as a child, imagining they were jewels.

And all day I’ve been remembering the kind, sky blue eyes of a friend who died this morning in a cancer ward.