St.Patrick’s day

This morning I spent a couple of hours faffing in the garden and working on the path bit but (shock, horror) I ran out of bricks, which was just as well as I was soon worn out and will have a think about the next bit.

This was supposed to be a photo of St.Patrick’s well https://www.blipfoto.com/entry/2145307733207812169  as I went up Keldas this afternoon… but without my phone … so I photographed the Gowbarrow daffs instead on my way back instead … a month early …
https://www.blipfoto.com/entry/2961235

Too early for all of that so here’s Dorothy’s journal for today, 17th March in 1802. The poem was The Emigrant Mother …

‘… William went up into the orchard and finished the poem. I went and sate with W. and walked backwards and forwards in the orchard till dinner time. He read me his poem. I read to him, and my Beloved slept. A sweet evening as it had been a sweet day, and I walked quietly along the side of Rydale lake with quiet thoughts—the hills and the lake were still—the owls had not begun to hoot, and the little birds had given over singing. I looked before me and saw a red light upon Silver How as if coming out of the vale below,
There was a light of most strange birth,
A light that came out of the earth,
And spread along the dark hill-side.’