Evidently fairly heavy rain again last night. This morning overcast, the afternoon still, sunny, & fairly warm. This evening rain again, but more like April showers that the previous rain. Saw the first swallow this afternoon (two. The one I saw close to was a swallow, not martin. I usually see sand martins first of all.) This is a little later than usual, but not as much as a week later. Sowed a few more sunflower seeds. Rolled the grass.
19 eggs.
This is a revealing entry. The Stores, Wallington, according to contemporary photographs, had a corrugated iron roof. If you’ve ever tried sleeping under such a roof you know that it cannot rain heavily without you knowing it – like a deafening drum-roll. But George is up and about and as observant as ever the following mornng. He was clearly a very heavy sleeper (the sleep of the just, no doubt), lucky man. Eileen, too, one supposes.
Max
For me, the images that Orwell shares as he stands in silhouette on his porch at first light with his tea and pipe, communing with nature, gain added Impressionistic overtones whenever he mentions sunflowers.
“Evidently,” this evening’s April shower was more appropriate than those which preceded it. He mentions this with what might be pride in that the April shower is, this evening at any rate, more well-behaved than its predecessors. He defends the helpless April shower against its would-be detractors.
Meanwhile, someone thought they overheard George interrogating a swallow as to its recent whereabouts.