Profligacy

We were both due to see the physio today - Mum for her neck and me for my sore hip - but our lovely physio was poorly, so the appointments were cancelled. (I think my hip may be recovering on its own, which is good news.)

I continued to attack the mountain of dirty washing from less than 2 weeks away. It's nearly all done now. Just the boots left to polish.

We woke to a misty landscape and there was no sign of the clouds lifting as the day went on. I decided that I MUST have a walk, so I started in the garden and then did the 2 miles around the village and the surrounding lanes.

It was hard to tear myself away from the garden because everything looks so lush. I wanted to photograph all the different flowers. It was quite dark, but the colours appeared more saturated as a result. The perfume from the lilac trees is delicious.

Out of the village, I walked beside hedgerows that are overflowing with wild flowers. The cow parsley is in full flower, interspersed with forget-me-nots, red campion, crosswort, wood avens, wild garlic and stitchwort, to name but a few.

The word profligate came to mind. Nature in its most reckless, excessive extravagance. My blip is a branch of hawthorn, spilling over an old wall.

The birds were singing their hearts out. A wren even posed on a road sign but was too far away for a decent photo.

The humidity was very high in the mist but I could not have cared less.

Then I visited Margret, who had exciting news, but not public just yet.