Nature hath charms ...
I'd promised myself that today would be a calm one, with no outside demands, when I would do those things that I ought to have done (you know the rest). It was slightly stalled by my disinclination to leave my bed in the morning; I sat drinking tea and trying to catch up on some of my blip friends and ignoring the grey chill of the morning outside. Then I had to make bread for lunch, and ... and ... and then have coffee after I'd cleared up. But thus restored I managed to get to the computer and write most of Sunday's sermon (the conclusion, slightly different from that with which I started out, will have to wait) as well as the wee spiel I've to give about two of the songs in our concert on Sunday.
It wasn't sunny by lunchtime, so we ate indoors, but shortly after I'd finished the day looked perfect again so I snuck outside with the paper and promptly fell asleep in the sunshine. We did get out, however, to Benmore Gardens, where I wanted to buy something in the shop before they shut. We then had the most lovely wander through the gardens and - quite briskly - to the top of the hill, spotting wonderful flaming rhododendrons far below us or gleaming from a hillside above, wondering at the completely dry, pale green sphagnum moss in the wood, seduced by different perfumes from shrubs and bushes, listening to willow-warblers singing duets of the call-and-answer variety, being led along a grassy path by a thrush who could have been a talking creature from Narnia.
Of the 60+ photos I took, I've chosen one from the end of our walk, looking back over the pond at the hills above the garden; I felt I couldn't go off, however, without leaving a bouquet of flowers from our walk so there's a collage in the extras.
Update on the holiday that isn't any more: the money from Saga is safely in my credit card account, but so far only the tax has been refunded by EasyJet. And my granddaughter acquired more midge bites on her DoE Silver practice run than I've ever seen on a single human being. I cannot think that such specific torment is character-building in any way. Just saying...
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