Snow squalls

The northern airstream pumped squalls throughout the day, blustery winds and snow on the mountains. The last of the day revved it up and reached us as I was cutting back a big ivy overhang.

I’d spent the day rolling stones downhill as we do hereabouts. Fixing up a terrace wall and generally keeping out of trouble.

Tomorrow’s the first anniversary of my mum’s death so I’m running all kinds of emotional interference, as they say.

An extra of the ‘crinale’ (the dividing ridge) with its mantle of snow against that last fierce squall. Mum would have revelled in the elemental fury of it all.

If you’ve a glass to hand tomorrow the toast is, ‘To a life well lived’.