Counting blessings

I think I keep sounding glum when I consider how my life is spent these days (I think that's a reminiscence of Milton ...), so instead of a photo taken at the customary great personal peril this morning, when I hung out of the window to photograph a visionary gleam of sun through grey skies, I'm posting a new photo of a place we spend a great deal of time wandering about in and which makes me feel content at the end of every visit. 

Before our late afternoon walk in Benmore Gardens, we'd had a busy morning: a Zoom meeting to firm up arrangements for services in church and online, the coffee for which I was desperate by the end of it, then out - Himself to drive to the church to practise the organ, while I parcelled up a couple of copies of Washed Up which had been requested by people on Bute before dropping off a letter in the post and heading up on foot to do some singing practice in church. 

After lunch, I was reminded of when I had a new baby and had just moved to Dunoon (I know - madness: he was only 5 weeks old). We lived in a council house that belonged to the education department, and after lunch, having fed the baby and put him down for a sleep, I'd sit down with my book and promptly sink into unconsciousness. My firstborn slept much more soundly during the day than he did in the evenings, and it was the greatest effort to rouse myself so that I wasn't still sitting there when J came home from school. That's what I felt like this afternoon.

However, we thought a peaceful walk in the Gardens might be better than sitting around, and we were right. Despite the presence of several cars in the car park, there seemed to be no-one else there, and all the gardeners and ground staff had knocked off for the day. The air was full of the song of thrushes and robins - I have this great app on the phone now, so I can say that with confidence - and the creaky door sounds of great tits, and I suddenly realised that high above our heads the magnolias were coming into flower. The chocolate-smelling bush had flowered, in tiny yellow flowers, and mingled the chocolate with the lemon from another tree just along the path, also yellow-blossomed,  but dangling. It was briefly like walking through a sweet shop ...

But it's the rhododendrons that are most remarkable just now, and this path epitomises the sense of space and peace that make it such a haven. We walked for an hour and covered less than half of the hillside - and that is in a time of pandemic and restrictions when people are confined to busy streets and parks in cities. 

No people, just beauty and birdsong. 

The visionary sun rays are in the extra ...