Back to the glens ...

After my all-too-infrequent blip about music (people, instruments, business, indoors) I'm back with the mists and the hills and the woods - all of which I'd miss horribly if I were living in the city where I could go to concerts and meet interesting people. One - or this one at least - never seems to grow out of the grass-is-greener stuff.

A very usual sort of Sunday for us: I was preaching this morning (the neighbour that needed three loaves in the middle of the night for a surprise visitor: I used to visualise sliced pan loaves and think they would make a helluva lot of sandwiches. I didn't tell them this...) We had various conversations after the service; my pal came for her customary coffee and catch-up before we went our separate ways for lunch. Later, when there was a sudden blink of sun, we went out, up the Glen Massan road. The air was warm and still, so that when it suddenly began to rain I couldn't bear to put my waterproof jacket on. By the time I took this photo, I was dripping, and not with rain.

What I like about this picture is that they've cut the field in the foreground (for silage, perhaps?) and because of the hot weather it's turned golden instead of the usual dull grey. And I love the trail of mist along the lower stretches of the big hill. Temperature inversion? 

Dinner was excellent. And modesty isn't one of my traits ...