Send out the dove ...

After two days of limited visibility and constant greyness all around, the sky began to clear this evening from the west. I caught this view from my window after (online) Compline, without which I might well have missed it. All the other photos I took today were brown and green - we did go out, leaving it so late that the brief dry respite of the morning had passed and it was raining again. But we saw four red squirrels at the usual feeding boxes, and a miserable field of melancholy sheep all yelling their heads off - at least, that's what it sounded like. From the state of the road along Loch Eck we wondered if they'd been moved there this morning and felt displaced.

Other than that all I managed to accomplish today was to go shopping. Trouble with going to the supermarket at 8am is that you have to fight your way through shelf-stackers and the people replenishing the fresh vegetables, some of whom wear only sketchy approximations of masks and seem to resent the presence of customers, but there's a sense of satisfaction in getting it over with and shutting myself away with my breakfast while Mr PB puts it all away.

Tomorrow will see the first time since March that the Eucharist will have been celebrated in church. We're restarting services with the Thursday evening one that is customarily a said service without an address; as music has been so important to our congregation for all the years (46) that I've been a member it seems somehow less of a wrench, less of a lack, when it's not the Sunday service. We've now been advised by the relevant Provincial committee that we should wear masks, which is sensible but horrid. I can't make up my mind how I feel about it right now, but wild enthusiasm and joy doesn't come into it. 

And tomorrow is the 75th anniversary of the bomb on Hiroshima. Somehow seeing the quasi-nuclear explosion in Beirut brought it home with a vengeance.