More redwoods than California ...

I have to start with an explanation of what I've just written, and the photo that is so closely tied to it. The photo shows the last of the afternoon sun slanting along the far side of the Giant Redwood Avenue in Benmore Gardens, one of my happy places to spend an afternoon. The metal plates on the ground are to stop anyone walking there while an enormous restoration job is taking place to save the trees from waterlogging. This was caused by the impaction of the soil over what began life as a metalled carriageway up the avenue; the ground became utterly waterlogged and the trees were under threat. But today's interest came from learning on the ITN 10 o'clock news that there are more - far more - giant redwoods in Britain than there are in their home in California, where there are giants that are seriously ancient (I've stood inside the trunk of one) but fewer of them. Apparently our climate is perfect for them, though they get their water by different means (are they talking about  wet fog in California?) Anyway, the TV crews were there today, talking to the curator, whom we know, so it felt odd seeing where we were today on the telly in the evening. 

In other news, the mild weather of midnight didn't really last, though it was still more benign than it has been so far - there was quite a strong wind, but from the south, and the sun appeared mid-morning. I did two loads of washing and hung them out - and was able to take them in, dry, before we went out for the walk. I also made two loaves in the course of the day, which meant lugging home 4 kilos of flour before lunch ...

And that had me thinking. I had the 3kilos of white flour in a wee rucksack on my back and the 1k bag of granary clutched to my person as I walked home from the shop, and realised when I was halfway that I was feeling amazingly tired. This led to two linked thoughts: no wonder the stone and a half that I put on when I was at the end of pregnancy (especially the second time) felt such a lot of weight to lug around on the same wee legs. And the second thought: I must never allow myself to get any heavier than I am now, or these self-same legs will give up and I'll be unliveable with. When I see these enormous young women walking around already showing signs of weariness, it appals me to think of their future. 

This evening we had Compline and some desultory television, in the middle of which I was doing compulsive Italian lessons to escape the Obsidian league and get back to the Diamond. All foolish pride ...