Around five in the morning the sum leaspfrogs the backbone of England.
After the barest pause for breath it soars above the sea, blurring the horizon with a heat haze and stuns Hallett’s Mountain into a surprised silence.
By midmorning the cuckoo goes off to cool its throat leaving just the small birds singing in the coconut scented gorse.
My garden jobs are done for the day and I have retired to the shade with some minted apple juice in an ice filled glass. Insects buzz round the rosemary and all is at peace in my world. All is still. Across the hillside bluebells dust the fields. The sun beats down.
Asbo lies panting in the shade below the wall, the theme from the Archers fades from a small radio on the table, Desert Island Discs starts as gently as Roy Plumley’s measured tones. The punctuation marks of Sunday morning.
Lunch is still an hour or two away from pleasant contemplation, teasing new combinations of garden herbs and salad.
Later on the bell in the old church will tempt us across the fields to stone cool prayer.
Time to spend an easy hour or two measuring my toenails. Time to wonder, slowly about …about…oh you know……you know……
Hey ho. Lets hope She Of The Townhouse doesn’t let another enthusiasm gallop away with her!
5 comments:
'An easy hour or two measuring my toenails'...
How about you let your toenails get on with their Sunday morning while you get started on this book you owe us...?
Don't think I could spend an hour or two contemplating anyone's toenails let alone my own, but I love the idea of the outdoor candlelit evening bath.
Love the bath photo. In fact I love lots of your recent ones on flickr.
Mike
What beautiful photos! All I can wish you is many more perfect days like this.
Sorry I haven't been round recently. It's been a case of settling in to live with 4 hens and 8 chicks plus a serious attempt at growing our own veg this year.
Your day sounds idyllic. May you have many more just as delightful with plenty of tme to watch your toenails grow.
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