Summer flowers

At this time of year the field behind the house makes most gardening efforts, wherever in the world, seem rather pointless. About 3 million different flowers per square metre emerge each spring, all on their own, and just keep coming back regardless of how often the meadows are cut for hay. They do pretty well up high too, just as long as you stay clear of the ski pistes which never look good in summer. They're easy to avoid around here - there's a lot more wild mountain than ski area - but the temptation to ride a lift for the first 800m of ascent is strong when it's this warm.

Out with the old, in with the new

Still demolishing... after months, but at least we've moved to the first floor, meaning that Jon (Penny's brother) and I could lob massive chimney blocks from the baclony into the skip. And we've finally started construction: here's a picture of my first ever wall - aerated concrete block with a thin bed mortar, since you were wondering - which I built on Saturday (an excuse for quality-time with my favourite new toy, a cross-level laser which shines spectacular horizontal and vertical lines through the dusty atmosphere).
We've had so much rain that the delivery truck which brought the palette of blocks got stuck in our back garden, having obligingly reversed as close to the house as possible, so we now have a couple of whopping wheel ruts for the local badgers to fall into at night.