Stinker

Well, not such a bad day really. On the surface it was fine. I mean, were I the type to want to project that everything in the garden was rosy, I could easily: sunshine dawn till dusk, a lovely walk with not too much mud, lots of gardening time and easy to cook meals. And finding these hellebores on our walk was a bonus.

But, you know, nothing's perfect. And nothing's ever really as it appears. And everyone's allowed to have a day when they feel persecuted and taken for granted (is it possible to be made to feel both in the same sentence? Turns out it is.)

But, but, the gardening worked its usual therapy, and the days ends fine, with just some wobbly bits in the middle. Speaking of wobbly middles, must start running again...