From the rising of the sun ...

Actually the main photo above is from the magnificent sunset that has featured on several posts on Social Media this evening; until the the early evening my main post was going to be the sunrise photo that's now here as an extra, when the sun suddenly appeared through the thick mist that had blanketed the Firth from when I first woke. In both cases it was the light on the water that most attracted me, so that's why they're both here now.

I was preaching at this morning's service - on the temptation in the wilderness. As I was writing the sermon, I kept seeing ways in which the current rulers of our world today are being tempted to flirt with power, to try ever more outrageous demonstrations of their power to a waiting world, to risk destroying everything for their moment of glory. It's hard not to revert to my back-of-a-lorry days sometimes ... The singing this morning was terrific - this great burst of male voices on the other side of the aisle is an increasingly noticeable feature of our worship these days. 

As it was a glorious day, with no wind and warm enough sun in the back garden to feel it was actually spring, I was tempted to do some pruning. I filled a whole bin with rosa rugosa bits and then spent some time distributing the most jaggy bits along the line of the hedge to the next-door garden where the fence is broken - to deter the moggie that insists on enjoying the privacy of our garden in which to relieve himself. See how he likes prickly feet ...

I had to break off to join in the online service, maintained ever since the pandemic for the benefit of those who can no longer make it to church, as well as some faithful souls who despite having been at church in the morning join in to give a sense of the worshipping community. I was there because the organiser had asked if I'd be willing to deliver my sermon again live rather than in the recording from the morning - it's quite a different experience.

And all that is why we found ourselves walking out the Ardyne shore road as the fiery sun sank below Bute and left us walking back in a strangely bright gloaming, as oystercatchers burbled quietly on the shore. It was much chillier by then, but absolutely lovely. 

Footnote: I didn't see much news today, because I fell asleep, but I have to tell you that during the period of light sleep before I actually woke up I found myself walking along Hunter Street  - a long road linking Hunter's Quay with Dunoon - in the company of Donald Trump. He was very orange, wearing a bright navy two-piece suit, I was trying to talk to him - but in the horrid way of dreams, I couldn't utter a word. 

I suspect life would be like that.