Pictorial blethers

By blethers

I checked them all in ...

What a glorious day this has been! It really felt, this Trinity Sunday, as though summer was more than merely a myth. From the moment I got up the sky was this miraculous blue - there's been no fiddling with colours on the photo above - and I've just locked the door on a clear sky with the line of light above the western hills that will disappear for only a few hours before the light appears again. 

Trinity Sunday is our patronal festival at Holy Trinity Church; we had a great sermon with the analogy of DNA to start us off, and I got to sing a lovely new (to me) plainsong hymn at the communion. I remember in the past we sometimes had lunch parties in the Rectory after the Trinity service; the children played among the bushes and appeared with their kilts around their ankles, covered in pollen - but that seems a long time ago; the children are all grown up; people's habits have changed; church has changed; times have changed. Besides, 40-odd years ago we weren't emerging from a pandemic and people weren't vanishing to see their families at the Bank Holiday weekend; the choir we had back then would have been silenced and may well not have stayed around ... it's interesting to contemplate; heartening that we're still here. My photo shows one of our wonderful church wardens taking the chance of the lovely weather to check the names and details of arriving congregants outside, instead of hiding in the porch away from the rain.

The rest of the day was suitably weekendish - coffee with my pal in our back garden, lunch in the garden, reading Scotland on Sunday in the garden, wearing shorts in the garden ... and very late in the afternoon, when most of the visitors would perhaps be thinking of tea, a not-very-strenuous walk on the shore at Toward, admiring the thrift on the shore and the clover on the verge. We were about to drive home when a sudden Face-Time call from our younger granddaughter had us sitting in the car listening to her as she played her Grade exam pieces on the bassoon - though as a small person, she's still using a tenoroon. 

I always feel I should managed to do what fellow-blipper Elspeth-Ann does, and go out looking at the sunset in a lovely evening, but as usual I collapsed over the telly. To think the small me would have played in the dusk among the midges ...

But that, my friends, was another world.

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