You've got mail...

A day of nondescript weather and pretty nondescript activity, with one really bright spot this morning. After a sunny start, we had a covering of grey and a gusty wind from the south - all still mild at 20-22c, but not sitting-out weather. At least we didn't have rain here, though we could see it falling on the Arran hills in the late afternoon. 

Himself spent much of the day wrestling with his computer. Having had some warning or other that a password had been compromised, he launched into a morning of change and destruction, aided and abetted by my bestie's man using one of these interesting takeover apps which let the expert take over your screen - one of these adventures only to be taken with the most trusted of helpers! I'm afraid I am too impatient when it comes to sorting out computer problems, probably because my own grasp of the way around is tenuous to the extent that if I stop to think I lose the knack. 

I took myself off to the burgeoning garden for a therapeutic morning of slash and burn without the burning (would never do after my rants about the neighbour's fires) so we are now once more able to walk up and down both front and back paths without being torn to shreds by rosa rugosa or even a marauding bramble or two. But I was interrupted while doing the front garden by the arrival of the postman, who decided to cut out some steps by walking across the grass to give me the one letter addressed to me. An actual handwritten envelope, not a birthday or Christmas in sight - I'd forgotten how intriguing that can be!

It turned out to be an appreciation of my collected poems. Like a fan letter, only nicer. Someone I know only through joint church events had ordered a copy after Christmas, and this was her telling me that she and her husband had read them all now, one a day, and taking the trouble to select the poems she'd especially reacted to. I was quite overwhelmed by this - it happens only seldom, and rarely in the detail. It made my day.

And finally: this is the week I have to pay the balance on that often-shunted Italian holiday. It's scheduled for September. Who knows what colour the government will have decided Italy is by then? And though the English rules seem to allow holidays in "amber" countries if you're vaccinated/prepared to quarantine, Nicola is saying only essential trips allowed. Que faire? 

At this rate I'll be taking a walking holiday when I'm past walking anywhere ...

But I'm going to stick on an extra from this afternoon's short walk at Toward, just because I'm loving the wildflowers in the fields and on the verges. And because it's cheerier than worrying.