Winter returns

Was it two weeks ago, or three, that we were having our lunch in the garden? We woke today to snow on the hills and a minor flood in my back garden where the rain had fallen too rapidly for my shallow soil to deal with, though it's recovered now. I was out of the house just after 8am to collect the shopping for which I had clicked rather later than I meant; at least I had the advantage at this hour of being the only person parked in the C&C area and I was home again in no time. Just as well - the temperature was only 3ºC, even though there were mad sunny spells such as is shown in my first extra, which was taken from my back bedroom and shows the view from the rear of the house for a change.

I felt pretty dead after a poor night's sleep (too much salmon at dinner, I fear) but galvanised myself to cut and colour my hair. I realise this palaver, involving not only myself but also Himself with his clippers to do the back bits, takes almost as long as going across the water to my hairdresser - I can't wait to get back to him! 

Still knackered, but determined not to give in to the desire to collapse, I joined Himself in what turned into quite a strenuous walk up a forestry road that until recently was the focus of much harvesting activity. That's the start of the track in the main photo; we marched towards those white hills for almost an hour with the sound of innumerable torrents, small to the left of us and dramatically bigger in the gorge to the right, resounding and making conversation difficult. A strangely peaceful walk, despite the noise, because there wasn't another soul to be seen.

A glass of wine, followed by Himself's chicken bhuna and chickpea dal, meant that I have just slept all through the ten o'clock news and am barely managing to remain coherent. Before I go, however, let me just add that the second extra is taken as we arrived back at Glen Massan, where three peaceful horses were waiting by the gate of the field. 

Night night ...