Dusk falling, dead oak

Not the easiest of times. I sprained my right wrist last week carrying a hefty flower pot in each hand. Foolish; I declined the offer of a sack barrow to take them to the car. Vanity, a sixty-six year old who has difficulty accepting the fact of being an older person. No doubt the universe will drum it into me eventually! Anyway now a muscle in my back has gone into spasm and I have been hobbling about the garden, trying to get necessary chores done before we head off to Scotland. Thank goodness for a sense of humour. I notice selfheal has chosen to grow in a couple of places in the lawn, hopefully it will cast a helpful spell over me.
It has also been a glorious autumn day, again. Pears picked, apples ripening in the sun. As dusk fell, streaks of inky cloud marked the luminescent deep blue sky and the last light of the sun glowed through the hedge, along side the dead oak tree at the bottom of the garden.