Now the green blade riseth ...

We made it! After what seemed like far too short a time in bed last night, we were out again just after 10am to the second celebration of Easter in church, attended today by not only the people from our own congregation but also visitors, whether to church families or just because they were here and wanted to come. Whatever the reason, the congregation was about twice its normal Sunday size and the singing was terrific. Our Rector was in Bute celebrating in our sister church there, but we had Canon Paddy in fine form, re-baptising the congregation with a vigour and joy which clearly had her collie, Hoy, entranced - you can see the moment in the extra photo.

One of the hymns we sang begins with the words I've used in my title today, and that's what struck me when we finally poured out into the sunlight of almost one o'clock: the world has suddenly turned green again, with the trees covered in the wonderful vivid foam of new leaves and the grass losing its downtrodden winter look. That's why I chose the shot above, from our late afternoon walk at Toward Point, of the wide field under a wide blue sky: the field has clearly been trimmed, in neat rows, like a massive and slightly shaggy lawn. The bluebells were out all along the side of the road, and the verges under the hedge on our side were rich with wild garlic; the woodland out of shot to the left of this picture was alive with birdsong. 

For dinner tonight I'd promised myself that we'd eat the second Christmas pudding I made this year - I always made two and used to take the second one to Edinburgh as my contribution to the feast, but recently my French daughter-in-law has taken my recipe and adapted it and now produces her own pudding, rendering my second one redundant... or is it? I've instituted a new custom of eating Christmas pudding on Easter Day, symbolising the circularity of the liturgical year ...

That was a joke, by the way. I even made some brandy butter as well as custard, and it was utterly delicious. Good thing was that we weren't as full as we usually are by the time we get on to the pudding stage at Christmas...

Back to our walk. It's only about two miles but rendered us virtually legless. When we returned to the car we were greeted by the sight of a very fat, large grey seal lying on a very small rock over which the sea was just beginning to lap - the first seal of the summer? 

Now it's late again, but I don't care, There is no Pilates class in the morning, no reason actually to get out of bed at all. 

Just saying ...