Scented

The thing I've noticed most about today has been the scents. Late June brings the scented flowers in my garden out - the philadelphus is going to have a huge number of blossoms this year, though it's just beginning to come out; the rosa rugosa has grown like the weed that many consider it to be and the flowers are buzzing with bees; the stinking lilies (yellow turk's cap lilies) are all out, while the wisteria, no longer as fragrant as it was, is dangling on long tendrils above the seats.

I also notice how busy today has felt; I suppose it was the first day back at work for two retired people who should have their lives under better control, but there you are. I was out early for a blood test, and then back out after putting on a washing, this time to Pilates. I don't know if it's the current spike in Covid infections that had reduced the size of the class today - it was back down to the same faithful (and older) group that I've known for years now, and we had plenty of space. The teacher, closely followed by several of us, had messaged the class group that they'd done a test before coming - suddenly I begin to see the point of this.

The afternoon saw us down at Loch Striven for a walk along the lochside, where the water seemed pale green-blue* under a blue sky and the verges were a riot of flowers, including one deep purple orchid. Argyll and Bute council have no money for regular verge-cutting, apparently, and the result is spectacularly beautiful. 

A nice moment on the road: we were cowering into said verge to avoid a council truck coming towards us (it's a single-track road and there's not much room) when the truck slowed to a halt and we were hailed cheerfully by the driver. Wasn't it a lovely day, he said, and we had the right idea ...How were we both keeping? He left, this cheerfully pleasant man, with the words "It's great to see you both again." We realised we must have taught him at some time, though neither of us could put a name to him, and reflected that it's one of the lovely things about living here after so long working in the school. I always feel that if I collapse in a heap in town someone will know who I am ...

A last word on scents: It is such a bad moment when you arrive home and realise that the perfume from your flowers has been overlaid with the dreadful smell of the stale perfume from someone visiting the neighbours ... I kept thinking I was smelling it long after I'd gone in.

Blipping the flowers along the wall of the Old Schoolhouse at Inverchaolain. You can just see the greenish blue of the loch to the left. Happy solstice - I don't think it's going to get properly dark tonight!

*Realise this colour is caused by the current plankton bloom.