After a day that was far from peaceful, a quiet walk through Benmore Gardens so late as to be the only people there by the time we were at the top of the hill, so quiet that we could hear our first cuckoo of the year calling in Glen Massan behind us.
Having cast our (postal) vote weeks ago, we had spent the day entertaining a pair of men who were crawling about under our floor insulating it. Despite our telling their boss in Glasgow that the trapdoor at the rear of the house was a really small one, they turned up without a jigsaw to cut a bigger one because they'd been told to come in the small van (cheaper on the ferry).
Nothing daunted, we hired a saw from a local company, told them to get on with it, and obtained an assurance from Glasgow that there would be a cheque in the post for the cost of the hire. Then we cleaned up and found time to clear the stour from our heads in the peace of the gardens.
There are new colours appearing as the rhododendrons fade ...