Atlas Daisies

My weather cup runneth over.

I can't remember having had such a wonderful spell of weather in recent years.
I'm afraid to breathe lest the haar returns and we shiver in the mist while the rest of the country bakes to a golden brown in the sun. It's dry enough for the garden hose to be out tonight.

In days of yore, May was a month when you could be sure of a heatwave of about 10 days in Scotland. But things have changed in the last decade or two and nothing is certain anymore on the weather front.

Coming back from a restful holiday it is always difficult to adjust to bills, shopping and normal living, but it helps if the sun shines.

However, there is an easterly breeze, and in the distance I can see the cherry blossom blowing in sporadic clouds off the trees. The colour has faded since we left, and in another few days the pink flounces bordering the paths will just be a memory to hold until next year.

The meadows are choc -a- bloc again with stripped down sunworshippers complete with barbecues and picnics. It's such a pity that when they go this evening, they will leave behind all their food wrappings for the seagulls and the litter men.
I was horrified when I saw it happen the first time, but I'm getting used to the habits of the younger generation.

I've resorted to blipping my pot of Atlas daisies which are loving the sun and putting on a brave show on the patio.