Hills of the North ...

I see them every day - or every day when they're not swathed in mist or hidden by rain. But today when I walked into my bedroom after breakfast they seemed somehow close, a real presence in my view. And for once I didn't take the idle, easy way and lift my phone for a photo. My camera has a great zoom on it, and I hung precariously out of the window and took this shot, with which I'm pleased. The snow has gone from the lower slopes, and has lost its pure white blanketing effect, but this shows the gullies and wrinkles in the hillside. 

My extra photo is by way of a memory and a birthday reflection. Nine years ago today my older grandson Alan was born, and Mr PB dedicated his then new arrangement of this lovely carol to him. At the time I was barely able to sing some of the words for the emotion of the association. Now we're singing it again, and I snapped my copy tonight as we sang. Happy Birthday, Alan - baby no longer!