Pictorial blethers

By blethers

Last Sun-day?

I'm writing this just after midnight and it's begun to rain, quietly and without fuss, dampening the road outside and - presumably - my pots full of seeds out there on the patio. I didn't water them today, despite the clear blue sky at dinnertime, and now I've been vindicated. Sun's gone for the foreseeable, but I've been vindicated ...

I think half the congregation must've been inspired by the weather to take themselves off somewhere, as the pews were missing several bodies this morning - though by the last hymn you'd not have known, given the volume. It's amazing the way some decent male-voice singing boosts both volume and confidence - gives me a lift every time. Right in the middle of the last hymn a text message flashed (and vibrated) on my watch: my friend Sarah, jubilant on her first Arran summit, on a wonderful sparkling day. When you recommend a place that means a lot to you, it's a huge relief when it comes up to scratch for someone else.

The local paper carried the story of the huge wind turbines proposed for hills just to the north of Dunoon - the second such proposal in ten or so years. Given the importance of our skyline for the tourism that is so badly needed, to say nothing of the other drawbacks involved, I can't hope it succeeds in going through. I managed to read the whole paper before we went out - for we had to make the most of the remaining hours of sunshine.

Said sunshine was most apparent, as always, to the south of us. We were both really tired - church always leaves us a tad drained, and there's still the lurking suspicion that the vaccination is still affecting us a bit - so decided on the level and naturally restricted walk in the area of Toward lighthouse. It was totally lovely - great swathes of bluebells and wild garlic along the verges and in the woods, the sea gleaming like metal beyond the fields, and the hills of Arran, sharply defined, where our friends were romping in the hills. Today's photo is of the lighthouse and the foghorn house (on the left) - the latter a Victorian building to house the compressed air used to sound the horn, still visible on the roof. Nowadays it's a private house, with a wee notice explaining what it was and asking for privacy - I wonder if people tried to open the door or something. 

It was getting on when I remembered I had a chicken to cook and hastened home to deal with it; we ate late and now I'm doing this late and I'll pay for it tomorrow ... but tough. It was worth it.

Let's hope we see these vivid blues again before too long ...

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