Midges at dusk

We've been out to friends' for dinner this evening, so in the light of that I decided my horns needed pulling in a bit earlier in the day, and didn't make any other plans. The result of this was that after a longish lie - reading blips, inter alia - I did a washing and hung it out, then attacked a most untidy patch in my front garden. I'd been there for about half an hour when I moved slightly to my left and saw the feathers scattered on the path - and then the remains of their owner. Cat? Sparrowhawk? Whatever had killed the pigeon had made a pretty comprehensive job of it and the result was the bad sight of the day. Reader, we sorted it. (Not the royal "we" - it was a job for two. I held the bin-bag.)

I finished by pruning the azalea before the house became hidden behind it - I can feel my shoulder muscles already complaining because of the long-handled loppers being deployed above my head. The rain came on, slightly, and we hurried to put away the tools I'd been using before a late lunch. I collapsed a bit after that, with the Sunday paper and a bit of ladylike dozing. We were going out quite early - about 5pm - so all I had time to do after I woke was to sit with my feet in a bucket of warm water with some scented oils added in an attempt to remedy the effects of too much walking about in bare feet inside my shoes - I must think I'm back to being ten or something.

We had a lovely evening in a wonderful newish house overlooking Loch Long, which is where today's photo was taken. As I was taking it, Himself was just realising that what he had thought was gentle drizzle falling on his head was in fact the advance guard of a million midges, so many that I felt that you really look at this view through a dancing haze of the blighters. We took some into the car with us as we left ...