What Is’t?

The grass outside the Dower House today was covered in little clumps of what looked like fluff but which turned out on close inspection to be dew drops on something like tiny webs. Any explanation as to the origin of the underlying structure would be most welcome

I had another early morning ramble in the haar, sea mist, fret (whatever your preferred name) with a hidden Arthur Seat and a cold, damp 11° east wind.
I do believe Putin who can influence elections, Brexit, referenda, not to mention mean poisonings has somehow influenced the weather to give months of an unfriendly east wind. I’m not sure what his agenda might be unless it is to persuade us Edinburghers to emigrate.
With midsummer just 2 weeks away, it’s a poor do to live on the east coast of Britain these days, especially when the news is trumpeting that Scotland has had its warmest May for 100 years. Not here it hasn’t.

The clear up of the Meadows Festival and the attendant fair is almost complete. Certainly the fair with its caravans, fun stalls and stomach churning Big Dipper which was operating as late as 7pm yesterday had completely disappeared as if by magic overnight leaving only a pile of blocks to indicate its presence.
As for the Festival, all that remained was a chair, something that looked to be designed for the comfort of men, and a bottle left under a tree as a tribute to the resident wood nymphs, oh and a lot of wire fences. Our verdant view has been restored.