Fox cubs, bullfinch and juvenile starlings

Forecast showers have done little more than threaten my mother's shampoo and set. I'm planting sweet corn in the Vegetable Garden and a hen pheasant clucks her disapproval. She’s in the throws of her sand bath in the bed I'm intending to plant. She rolls onto her side and fluffs the sand up with her feet. She must finish her toilette before I can mark the ground out with string lines.

Two fox cubs bundle out of the hedge bottom and tumble down the drive. The night camera tells me we have at least three cubs. In the video, a hedgehog goes about its' business  in the hedgehog cafe, paying the fox cub no regard.

The Vegetable Garden is almost planted. Tender beans, squash and courgettes have been planted. There can be few satisfactions to match that of the vegetable gardener as the end of May as he/she looks back at what's been planted. 'A garden needs a good coat of looking at.' Our radish harvest goes on. Over a kilo of radish harvested. I give surplus to the poor. Not literally. Not sure what the hooded, gaunt men who sit with their dogs on the street corners of Nottingham would say if, when asking for a pound for a cup of tea, they were instead handed radishes. We are moving towards the time when the garden will be at its' most-productive. 14.5 kilos of food harvested since I began records in March. 

Goldfinches have returned to the mother feeder. On the bird table a male bullfinch. Soft focus rosey pinks and greys. Utterly, utterly gorgeous. Not so very long ago, these beautiful birds were so plentiful that they were considered a pest in orchards where they were said to strip the buds of fruit  trees. Bullfinches, in my lifetime were trapped and killed in their thousands.  This was our first garden record for a year and may be a sign that we have a breeding pair. Bullfinches are are unique among British finches in their monogamy and faithfulness.

Sweet corn doesn’t thrive in our thin dry soil. Last year's lack of rain saw the plants severely stunted. The paltry cobs they produced were scrumped one night by a dog fox. He shat leaving his calling card studded with yellow among the wrecked plants.

Half of the polytunnel is now planted  - with tomatoes, cucumbers and peppers. The worst tomatoes we've ever grown, probably due to the cold nights following hot greenhouse days. Could the arrested development also be due to the peat-free compost we use? It's recommended by the RHS, but the suspicion is that it doesn't retain water in the way that peat does. Out here in the ethical left-field we don't countenance use of peat. Harvesting peat is massively damaging to fragile and increasingly rare eco-systems and releases CO2. But each garden centre is stacked high with peat products servicing the needs of well over twenty million gardeners. The volume of peat being stripped from the environment to service this demand is eye-watering. And big business too. Is it time for a co-operative to promote peat-free, organic composts to raise standards, increase confidence and improve awareness - and bring it within the price range of 'average' gardeners? Is it also time to accredit growers who use peat-free? And isn't it time that the august RHS declared it's flagship Chelsea Flower Show to be completely peat-free?

This has been a stellar starling year. Around 200 garrulous juveniles. Feeding at next-door-but-one's on Wilko suet pellets and muesli. Then skipping over us to the mobile home park. Burring. Never once stopping for the smorgasbord of suet pellets and dried and live mealworms I'm offering in feeders. I even mowed what looks like a cricket strip in the lawn and poured food on the ground. I'm abasing myself. Nothing. Carrion crows, magpies and pheasants approved though.

The liquid song of the blackcap fills the Woodland Garden and Birch Border.

At night our tawnies and their young puncture the evening quiet with their calls. Common pipistrelle bats overhead, clicking the bat detector. And the brightest International Space Station pass we've seen.