There came both mist and rain ...

No, not snow. Not yet. (Spot what I'm misquoting?*) But today was distinctly dreary, with dampness in the morning air that turned into proper rain in the afternoon. I yielded to the fact that it's now October and wore my fuzzy fleecy jacket to church this morning, partly because as I was reading today (lectern has its own mic) and singing (no amplification) I wasn't having to clip a microphone onto a lapel - it would make such a mess of a fuzzy fleece! I think the first reading was a judgement on me - having to read the creation myth from the OT was hard to do without invoking various nuances of tone ...

Di was off on a residential course all weekend, so Himself and I downed a quick coffee when we got home and moved swiftly on to lunch with the Sunday papers. We listened to the weekly radio Evensong, this week featuring the BBC singers on their 100th year as well as an orchestra; it doesn't work for me as a service having it in concert mode like that, despite some fine singing and music. (I went and peeled potatoes till it finished)

Then, following the impulse that is about as strong as a dog's need for a walk only without the peripherals, we went in the rain to the mile of the old road between Puck's Glen and Benmore, which features in today's photos. The first shows the ancient wall that used to form the boundary of a cottage; it was empty when I first saw it, and about 20 years ago we were passing it when the roof suddenly fell in for no apparent reason. Now there are merely bits of wall left, and trees and heaps of slates. Because there is no redeeming feature in this view - I use it to show how the mist lies on the hills around here on a day like this - I've included an extra of the magic found just past here, where sudden bursts of gold and russet and red suddenly appear among the trees to such an extent that we both kept stopping to take photos. 

Can't decide if I'm going to watch the new serial on BBC1 at 9pm - I fell asleep at a crucial point and never quite retrieved all the characters as I tried to catch up. 

My younger son, by the way, made his connection, and the next one, and is now at his destination. After our experience, this seems nothing short of a miracle to me.

(*The Ancient Mariner)