Foraging

Another glorious day - though I'm afraid that as we walked back from choir practice half an hour ago I noticed the frost sparkling on the benches in the wee garden along the road, and the small burn that trickles out of our front gate in all but the driest of spells is beginning to turn solid at the edges under a huge, bright moon. I'm glad I'm not going out early tomorrow morning.

This morning I wasn't out early, and had time to have my coffee first, but it was the day we'd designated, Di and I, as the time we had free in common to go foraging for the Advent Wreath greenery. It was possibly the best weather we've done this annual task in - last year, I think it was, we were soaked and my hands looked and felt like wet fish. But today was windless and sunshiny as we found interesting lichen on the forest floor to add to the increasing eccentricity of our Advent creation (there was greenery, of course, but the lichen, clearly brought off the trees in the recent winds, is a new idea). Some of our usual paths were overgrown with brambles, having been blocked by fallen branches and allowed to vanish as a result. We wondered if we'd still be doing this in ... what? Five years' time? Ten? Is there an obvious successor? (There is - I've not told her yet)

When I got home, Himself took the car off to practise in the cold church. I went to buy a new seed-dispenser for the birds, then made bread, then a rather delicious pasta. We ate it and subsided ...

And an hour later I had a delightful face-time with my older grandson, Alan, who is 15 today. They were all going out for dinner, and he was wearing my present - he even put his phone on the floor so that I could see how well it fitted. (Cool breeks!) He's turning into an entirely civilised and charming young man (can you tell I'm having a proud grandma moment?)

And now the clock has struck ten and I need a marmalade sandwich. Really.

The photo is of the wonderful sunlit jungle where we foraged.