Magnolias in the fridge

I don't really like Easter being so early in the year, especially not when I waken to see snow on the hills to the north and realise that the wind is once more in the east (or north-east) and the front of the house, double glazing and all, is chilly. However, the sun was shining and I was determined to go out despite our having to go out to church (as distinct from choir practice) in the evening, with the consequent moving around of meals ...

By the time we were ready to do this, the sun had gone from Dunoon, but a quick check from an upstairs window showed blue sky over Benmore Gardens - and I was keen to see if the magnolias were out. As you can see from the photo, they were - this one is the first we saw and also the highest in the gardens, as it's on the top of the hill where the Andean Refuge is, standing there tall and and leggy and somehow crazy to be so pink and cheerful in such chilly weather. We were also surrounded in the lower reaches by rhododendrons in full bloom, from pure white to deep red, and the strange tree with the distinct smell of chocolate was just beginning to spread its suggestion of a hot drink waiting down beside the redwood avenue. (Azara microphylla, if you're interested).

The wind was blowing rather more noticeably by the time we were down, so we were glad we'd gone early. Himself went off to be even colder doing a bit of organ practice in the church, and I wrestled with a new backup app I've been trying to install. (I've just managed to do it, I think, though as it's now frantically backing up the entire computer it's slowed everything up, including this post. Crazy to do it at midnight, but a sense of triumph nonetheless)

This evening's service was one of the three joint Holy Week services put on in each of three churches in the town, so our Evensong was attended by presbyterians and RCs, who listened to the Mag and Nunc (to plainsong, sung by me and Himself) rather than join in. We had a metrical psalm to make life easier, and everyone was very jolly afterwards. And then we came home and fell asleep in front of the telly ...

And all this leaves me with no space or energy to continue last night's theme, to which I shall return when I've had a boring day. I shall now leave Backblaze to do its thing - I have a month's free trial to see if I like it. 

What happens to all this when I get past remembering, I wonder?