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Mary's latest novel – the 11th in the Rossington series – was published on 4 November 2025. Look out for Don’t Tell Tales! Visit your local bookshop or friendly crime specialist for a copy – or order it from our stockist 
Bodies In The Bookshop, Cambridge.
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May 2026
Sunday 31 May 2026
There are large patches of white clover growing in my front garden and there are times when they are almost covered with bees, both wild and honey bees, their buzzing audible as a low background hum.
Friday 29 May 2026
I found the first dead bumblebee of the year on the terrace this morning. We had a constant stream of dead bees in the garden last year, on the terrace, on the grass, in the water bowls. They needed to drink more because of the extreme summer heat and weren’t able to use any of the water sources in our garden without drowning. One of the local beekeepers advised me to pour water into shallow dishes or plant saucers that had a few rocks in them so that the bees could stand on something to drink without drowning.
The saucers and rocks are back in use, so I hope we’ll have fewer dead bees, which last year made a distressing start to many days.
Wednesday 27 May 2026
The blue tit pair have had a second brood in their nest in the granite wall edging the drive, accessed by a very small hole, which has gradually got bigger. They have been very busy recently, each parent flying in and out with food for their brood. Sometimes they visited the sunflower heart feeder, sometimes they flew down to the water meadow, often in tandem, returning with fat green caterpillars. Their approach to the nest was always very careful, flying obliquely into the front garden hedge or the silver birch overhanging the wall, and then darting into the hole.
Monday 25 May 2026
One of the male chaffinches who visit the garden has a vividly coloured chestnut chest, and when the grass is longer and he keeps still, at first that’s all that’s visible, like a large fallen petal.
Thursday 21 May 2026
A greater spotted woodpecker has been paying regular visits to the garden, instantly noticeable because of his larger size as he perches briefly on the mixed seed feeder, where his red patches stand out distinctively. He comes from further up the hill, where a wooded garden blends into a wooded slope. He usually returns there after feeding, but sometimes heads over the lane towards the tree-fringed meadows beside the brook.
Tuesday 19 May 2026
A flake of soft clear blue drifted over the front garden, the first holly blue butterfly of this year, inspecting the flowers. Swifts appeared over the garden a few days ago, their distinctive sickle shapes flying high above. There aren’t many of them, but their screaming calls are audible, albeit faintly, from the heights they prefer during the day. Swallows are nesting in a nearby barn, and house martins have come back to build their mud cups in the usual eaves.
The bluebells at Holwell Lawn have been exceptionally good this year as the bracken has been cut back. They create a sea of indigo and if the day is sunny their scent drifts across the air. The thick drifts of orchids that sometimes flower on certain roadside verges have only produced a scattering of flowers this year. But white cuckoo flowers have been prolific on the corner verge at the entrance into the village. Their flowering usually coincides with the arrival of cuckoos, the males calling out with their distinctive cry, trying to attract a nearby female. The flowers are sometimes pink, and whichever colour they are, another name for them is Lady’s Smock. There are many stories attached to the name, but the one I like best conjures up the image of village washing days when the clean wet linen was spread across bushes to dry.