Fulsome

I love that word. I think maybe we only hear it applied to abstract concepts like thanks, but it's the word that came into my mind this morning when I went out into the warm stillness of my midday garden, and that's what the photo is an attempt to embody. Not only is the Philadelphus out at least a couple of weeks earlier than I would expect, it is also more blossomy than ever, and along with the random sproutings of rosa rugosa was absolutely buzzing with bees - you'll see one in the lower of the two roses if you look carefully.

The day began as usual in the supermarket, though for several minutes when I first sat up in bed I was convinced it was Saturday, which led to some confusion. I spent more cash than I'd anticipated - have things suddenly got dearer, or do I just buy more fruit and veg in the summer? Certainly my trolley was half full before I'd even left the fruit aisle.

Doing this always makes me feel I've finished work for the day when I sit down to breakfast, and I didn't really accomplish much for the rest of the morning other than my Italian exercises. I wasted some time on the Royal Mail app trying to track a parcel I'd posted on Tuesday, then wandered out into the garden because the threatening clouds that had appeared while I was in Morrison's had disappeared and it suddenly looked most inviting. Himself had a phone call from the organ man and vanished up to the church to meet him - a pedal on the organ had come loose, apparently because we've succeeded in drying it out - I know: it sounds crazy. I did a bit of tidying up, cutting back bits of an already pruned rose bush which went crazy in the last warm spell and is growing great long branches that are too soft to stay upright. I tied some to the ivy on the wall ...

And then I gave up. I put the comfy garden chair next to the table, made some tea, toasted a bit of home made bread and got a banana and the Sunday supplement I'm currently reading, put on a floppy hat and a pair of shorts (I already had the t-shirt!) and settled down to pretend I was on holiday. It was warm and still, though the wind from the east was growing strong enough to hear at the front of the house, and I dozed off after eating. 

I was wakened by the return of Himself, roused myself to collect a prescription from the chemist, and realised that the day had changed, that the sea was grey and whipping up in white horsed in the wind that was now really pretty strong. Nevertheless, we drove down to Ardyne for a walk out the beach road before tea; I spent most of the walk talking to my old school friend who now helps run the Episcopal church in Rothesay and who had been tidying and found a whole lot of letters I'd written to her in the late 70s/early 80s. Later, she sent me photos of some ...

But my amazement at my younger self can wait for another blip. Time for bed, on this strangely warm, blowy night with the rain bashing down. Time for bed.