Golden mud

On the opposite side of the estuary, the town of Grange likes to be known as Grange-over-Sands, but in truth it is really Grange-over-Mud, or now that the saltmarsh has grown across the mud, Grange-over-Grass. Arnside has no pretensions about its muddy coast. Here is the sticky mud left by the high tides, glowing in the golden light of sunset. Shame, for once my pet gull refused to appear. Though the wide-angle does a quality sunburst with a tiny aperture.

With the able help of Simon, we took advantage of the warm, dry evening to work on the allotment. We were stopped finally by the emergence of the midges, clouds of which were intent on a good meal. I have not figured out where they come from as we never have them at our end of the village, thankfully.

So here I am posting late yet again. Which means I will again be short on comments tonight, and I am already so far behind with viewing and commenting on the journals of all the lovely people who stop by at mine. I'm afraid I'm burning the candle at both ends, getting up early to take Gus for his morning walk, then rounding off the day with another Gus walk along the estuary. So, please, don't feel the need to comment on mine tonight.