Posted by Tania Kindersley.
Over at The Daily Dish, Andrew Sullivan has a lovely feature called The View From Your Window. Readers of his blog send in snapshots from wherever they are, from Tokyo to Montana, Bogota to Berlin. The pictures are not always terribly good, but they carry a curious fascination and power, as if they are opening up the world before my very eyes, one snap at a time. I am not in writing mood today, but a glorious Indian summer has descended on Scotland, as if in gentle apology for the rotten actual summer that came before it, so instead of an essay on world affairs, or people's stomachs, or horses I have loved, or recipes I have cooked, I am giving you some views from my walk this morning. (This goes with especial love to my ex-pat readers in California, where the wildfires have been raging: a cool draft of the clear north, to remind you of dear old Blighty.)
Do you see the moon is still up? And the colour of the sky? Sometimes there are no words.
The view right up into the branches of the oldest and gnarliest and most bent of the great horse chestnut trees.
Someone left a table out. I can see no clear reason for it. But it looks rather glorious, abandoned out there in the long grass.
The burn, with the dogwood in full fig. I remember when that dogwood was eight inches tall.
And, of course, one of the dear dogs, because a blog isn't really a blog unless it has a dog in it. Look at her, all ready for her close-up.
Over at The Daily Dish, Andrew Sullivan has a lovely feature called The View From Your Window. Readers of his blog send in snapshots from wherever they are, from Tokyo to Montana, Bogota to Berlin. The pictures are not always terribly good, but they carry a curious fascination and power, as if they are opening up the world before my very eyes, one snap at a time. I am not in writing mood today, but a glorious Indian summer has descended on Scotland, as if in gentle apology for the rotten actual summer that came before it, so instead of an essay on world affairs, or people's stomachs, or horses I have loved, or recipes I have cooked, I am giving you some views from my walk this morning. (This goes with especial love to my ex-pat readers in California, where the wildfires have been raging: a cool draft of the clear north, to remind you of dear old Blighty.)
Do you see the moon is still up? And the colour of the sky? Sometimes there are no words.
The view right up into the branches of the oldest and gnarliest and most bent of the great horse chestnut trees.
Someone left a table out. I can see no clear reason for it. But it looks rather glorious, abandoned out there in the long grass.
The burn, with the dogwood in full fig. I remember when that dogwood was eight inches tall.And, of course, one of the dear dogs, because a blog isn't really a blog unless it has a dog in it. Look at her, all ready for her close-up.
It's true. Sometimes there are no words.
ReplyDeleteWhat a beautiful day.
Love,
Miss W x
"A blog isn't really a blog unless it has a dog in it."
ReplyDeleteI cldn't agree more! LLGxx
Gorgeous Dog! I agree with you and LLG "A blog isn't really a blog unless it has a dog in it."x
ReplyDelete