Transient ...

I opened my eyes this morning - after a dense sleep that seemed to have made up for the previous night, with a lengthy but swiftly forgotten dream - to see this amazing sky. Himself had left my tea by the bed and my phone handily beside it (he's awful well-trained in the morning), and though I was still half asleep I found I was halfway to the window before I thought about it. The sea really was that blood-red colour, and the sky seemed to vibrate with energy; I took two photos from my usual precarious stance and crawled back into bed. By the time I'd got myself comfortably settled and picked up my tea the colour had gone. We didn't see clear sky again until the afternoon; there's a bright moon now, but I couldn't let this sunrise go unblipped.

Quite an eventful day, in a modest way - our Pilates teacher was told a fortnight ago today that she only had that week left in the studio out at the garden centre and then her let was finished. (What kind of landlord does that to a tenant?) After a couple of weeks of frantic searching for somewhere within her means, she was pointed to an upstairs room which used to be part of the Tudor Tea Rooms, where my mother liked to take me for coffee and scones when I was at home with the boys when they were wee. So instead of needing a lift out to Kirn I was able to walk down the road in five minutes, the only drawback being that of having to walk through town in a pair of faintly kenspeckle leggings ... 

The afternoon was taken up by a longish vestry meeting online, though I took some time before it to clear up some of the leaves that keep coming into the kitchen - there'll be more, as the wisteria isn't done shedding them yet, but I'll deal with them another time. It's quite a business keeping the everyday running of the church going while dealing with the process of finding a new rector, especially when it's a joint charge... 

While I was so occupied, Himself learned of the death of an old friend and neighbour, a former colleague whose wife actually alerted us to the fact that the house we still live in was on the market. We shared a love of Arran and of music, and his going is like a further nibbling away of the parameters of our life here. May he rest in peace and rise in glory.