Snow.
An amazing number of words.
Good twenty-minute increments.
Another of the Dear Departeds departs.
Procrastination. I wish I could do something about it. I think: I’ll deal with it tomorrow.
HorseBack, with moody hills.
Some not very good news.
A faint feeling of unease.
The sweet, soothing presence of the red mare.
A smile at the thought of Frankel’s birthday.
A fret about things undone.
A contemplation of the power of the simple, declarative sentence.
Kindness on the internet.
A very bad hair day.
Quite a lot of laughing.
One lovely winning bet.
A ham sandwich.
Thoughts of grammar.
One excited dog; one bloody big stick.
And, in the end, after all that, there was sun. Thick, ancient, Scottish sun, the colour of amber.
Today’s pictures:
Morning:
Afternoon:
Today’s hill, back in all her glory:
You are fortunate to be in Scotland, where an independence referendum is in the offing. Here in Wales and SW England (I am in Wales and have family in Glos) we have had to stomach the fact that Westminster is now so blatantly first and foremost the parliament of (SE) England that it just is NOT funny. Unless it is the Olympics, when it's all Team GB...
ReplyDeleteYours half-drownedly
Hurrah for the hill. And hills in general at present.
ReplyDeleteMagnificent Mr Stanley and snowdrops.
ReplyDeletethe little filly ??
ReplyDeleteJudith in N. California