Blowing in the wind

Today's hospital appointment was in Newcastle, at the RVI, where Mum saw the specialist hand physiotherapist to review progress since her second operation. We already knew that the tendon on one finger was misbehaving, but the physio showed us that there are two miscreants.

This is disappointing since we both had high hopes, but we also knew that the operation might not work.

We came home and enjoyed the views along the Military Road.

I then spent a couple of hours trying to sort out the application for Mum's blue badge. I concluded that the Russian visa application had not been too difficult. If you do not have a passport, or pay utility bills, you have to provide a photocopy of your birth certificate. To my complete surprise, Mum did not know where this was. Some searching ensued until I remembered that we had put it in my filing cabinet with her marriage lines and her will. Trusting me with these documents is quite something.

The birth certificate is tiny and on very thin paper, like baking parchment. It will provide what we need. I ran out of steam before taking her photo for the photo identity we need too.

Since we bought this house, I have often enjoyed walking around the garden in the evening and finding solace there. At the moment, the perfume of the Philadelphus is wonderful. There are also roses and sweet peas and honeysuckle.  I have to make myself concentrate on the plants and the birdsong so that I don't think about all the gardening that needs doing.

Here is a tiny feather on verbascum in the late evening light. Magic.