Dear Friends and Parishioners,

Summer at last and the long days of light and warmth, and we hope, temperate rain.  The preparations of Winter and Spring lead to this: growth and fruition and Sharrington strawberries for breakfast, lunch and dinner.  What I wasn’t prepared for though was the death of three pear trees and an apple, all due to a wandering honey fungus.  It devoured a huge ash tree in the churchyard and invisibly made its way through my garden.  Such is the way of malignity, and it is wasteful and sad.  I am particularly sad to say goodbye to a venerable pear planted in the lawn and lovingly pruned into the shape of a chalice with a long stem with a pretty and productive bowl.  Its grey green leaves delighted me in Spring, the canopy made a lovely parasol in Summer and the little sweet fruits fed me and the birds.  Alas no more.

May I wish you a peaceful and bountiful Summer and a nice lot of local cream on those strawberries.

Yours very truly,

Ian Whittle.

Yet when woodland bowers

Are filled with fresh flowers,

‘Neath trees of green splendour

‘Tis comfort to rove;

Though glimpses of gladness

Are mingled with sadness,

With memories most tender

I seek the Ash Grove.

Gaed gynt yn Llwyn On.

The Ash Grove, by Harold Boulton, from Songs of the Four Nations.