Pictorial blethers

By blethers

Return visit

It's been remarked on recently that we have wonderfully empty spaces to walk in during plague months as opposed to the crowded recreational spaces in the city, and on days such as today I know that these people are correct, and the the space must seem endless. But I'm also aware that when we're not allowed to travel further our walk options, though spacious and lovely, are those we've walked so often that there are days when I swear I can notice that the grass has grown.

So today, we passed a recent landmark for us, one I've blipped about in some detail in August. The Creag na Cailleach is reaching the end of her winter as a woman, according to the legend, and will soon be trapped once more as a stone - this stone, standing in its gnarled woodland beside Loch Striven. Through the winter months, the sunlight has barely reached round as far as the stone in its terraced clearing, but this afternoon it was brightly lit. There is a great difference in the colouring of the surroundings from the previous blip. with the bare trees and dead grass, but it was as atmospheric as ever.

Apart from this - a lovely 5 mile walk without once feeling the need to put my hat on - I had the usual Monday Pilates class on my mat spread on the sitting-room floor. I opened the window because the first plank had me radiating heat, and felt ten times better than the stiff cailleach that I'd been an hour earlier. I made some arrangements around tomorrow's zoom poetry class, and had some delicious smoked salmon for lunch. The "memory" that popped up on my Facebook page reminded me that two years ago today we were off to Malta, where we were greeted by the most appalling storm. On a still night like this, it's hard to remember that there's actually a storm heading our way right now - I'd better open the north-facing bedroom window when I go to bed in case things get interesting in the small hours. 

I felt that today's News seemed hopeful - not the UK PM's "no turning back" way out of lockdown so much as the scientists' delight over the efficacy of both the vaccines in use in Scotland. They pointed out that protection against infection was per se protection against transmission - something so blindingly simple that it seems almost incontrovertible. And our neck of the woods - the bits of Argyll and Bute that have traditionally been the extent of the local area before the addition of Lomond Shore and Garelochead - has had no new infections for a couple of weeks now. 

Dare I shed a layer of neurosis?

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