Advent's candles are burnt out ...

A bit of a liberty with Shakespeare there, but it just crept into my mind ...A last look at this year's Advent Wreath, which will be dismantled tomorrow along with the tree and other decorations in church, though the crib scene, complete with newly-arrived Magi, will remain till Candlemas. You can see how perilously close to the foliage the rose candle has burned; two of the purple ones have already gone beyond that and been replaced by others left from previous years. 

We celebrated the Epiphany today - in a small church, with so many elderly people and that steep hill and the current weather, there would be few that would make it to a Monday service despite, in my case anyway, a longing for incense and darkness for the arrival of the Magi! Despite this dire coughing virus that has struck so many of us and left a sadly depleted congregation this morning, it was a glorious service ending with the keenly anticipated "camel music" - Mr PB's closing voluntary on the tune of "We Three Kings". I may well have raved about this before, but there's never a year when I fail to be carried away by the distant footfall, the gentle sound of harness bells, the massive presence of the Kings' passing, the decline into almost-silence as they recede into the distance. At the end, there was a spontaneous burst of applause - and we all drifted off into the rain and gloom grinning like children.

And then I came home and painted splodges of trial paint on my bedroom wall. It's now too dark to tell which I like, let alone take photos for the curious. But I shall, I shall ...