And breathe ...

It seems strange to write that as the death toll here from Covid_19 climbs ever higher, and the heroes working in the wards have barely time to breathe while their patients struggle to do just that, but it seemed to me as if the civilised world drew a breath of sheer relief that the madness of the Trump presidency was finally over. On January 20th, 2017, I wrote "God help us" as the conclusion to my blip; today felt euphoric - even here, even with our own home-grown right wing egos flailing around. 

Today seemed rushed, somehow - an editing task after breakfast for #2 son, sourdough to make and set aside (just baked now), a washing to do (the magic underwear drawer had failed to produce as required - another result of the sliding-by of days) - and a walk to fit in before the Inauguration, which we were determined to see. So we walked when we should have been eating lunch, which meant that Glen Massan was beautifully quiet until the last 5 minutes, when suddenly all the afternoon dog-walkers began to appear. I've blipped the best of hanging valleys that is the upper glen, where the farm sits under the hill and the surrounding hills further up are once again white with snow. We talked to the inquisitive sheep and marched back down the glen at a great pace. 

My extra photo is of the lovely light that I could see through the window as we watched the swearing-in ceremonies - the northern hills under a pale pink cloud and the far shore bathed in the last of the sun. As I noticed it, I realised I was hearing all the words of the Star Spangled Banner for the first time - Lady Gaga is a star I've never heard and wouldn't have recognised, but boy, can she sing. And Garth Brookes has fairly changed since my #2 son had a thing for his music and we watched him march down stages into his audience ... 

See time? Fugit, so it does.