Sunday trees

Posted by Tania Kindersley.

The Cousin has the great good fortune to live near the Westonbirt arboretum. It is one of my favourite places in the world. I should know the history of it, but I don't. All I can tell is that a very wonderful human decided, a very long time ago, to plant many glorious trees, over many glorious acres, and now I get to walk amongst them, with three cousins and three dogs, with my happy mouth open in awed delight.

This is some of what it looked like:

And that was on a dull day. Imagine what it must look like when the sun comes out.

Middle cousin, with her dog on left, and my dog on right. She was not posing; she just suddenly saw something and whipped round and I happened to click the shutter:

(I gave her that red bag for her birthday. I had no idea it would be such a success.)

All cousins and all dogs, rather tired at the end of a long morning's walk:

All three girls, my old lady on the right, doing her high dignity face:

And oh, oh, oh, this face:

I know she is descended from wolves, and I should not insult her dignity by fawning on her, but sometimes when I see that much beauty I feel slightly other.

Still feels a little odd, finishing without a hill. It is like that moment when you come down stairs and you expect there to be an extra step and there is not one, and your foot goes flat on the floor and you feel rather rattled and foolish, even thought there is no one to see. Shall I ever be able to live in flatlands ever again?