Armillary

Today began with Pilates class and continued with a walk to the top of Benmore Gardens, with the result that by bedtime we are both suffering more than a bit ... My class was depleted today, being back to the basic core of women most of whom were there when I started going several years ago now. We started off in very chatty mode - one of us was back for the first time since her daughter's wedding, so there was catching up to do - but were soon reduced to the silence broken by the odd grunt that shows we're actually working. I still can't get beyond a 30-second elbow plank.

It grew so sunny and pleasant after lunch that we couldn't stay in (I could have done some modest gardening, but that didn't seem much of a plan). Hence the Benmore Gardens walk. It was well worth it - there were buds bursting forth everywhere, the great stems of Gunnera unfolding like embryonic Triffids, rhododendrons with pink fingers of leaves sticking up like rude gestures. When we came down the east-facing path we noticed the bright blue sky being eaten up by threatening clouds (I've just seen them on the BBC weather on TV - it was indeed a complete weak front) and wondered if it would rain, but as far as I know there hasn't been any. 

My blip shows the contrast of cloud and dark with the bright green of the formal garden through the edge of the armillary sundial in the middle of the grass where, when my boys were wee, there stood an ornamental fountain with surrounding pond into which I used to be sure they would fall and drown before I got to them. (They didn't.) 

I only learned today the origin of the word "armillary". I'm rather pleased.