D and I have returned from our adventures. As you can see, the weather was – variable. However, this is just a taster for tomorrow, as I have to go through several hundred photos tonight. You’ll have to wait to find out the full story – a picture does not always tell so much as tantalise.
Some other news – sadly, I didn’t get selected for Black Balloon Press’ Horatio Nelson Prize, so no tour of the US in an eyepatch. I do hope for further luck for Kilea. And I look forward to seeing who wins.
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I am off to the wedding of my friends A and M, down in the English Peak District. Things will be quiet, but I hope to take advantage of the (presumably) lovely scenery and take a lot of photos – snow is predicted. Which I would be excited about, but it’s March, and March snow is always a little wearying.
Happy International Women’s Day and World Book Night (for yesterday). I shall be merging the two holidays by reading a book by a woman on the long train journey down – The Secret History by Donna Tartt. So if the landscapes going by the train are gloomy and misted like the picture of the Meadows above, I shall have something to keep my mind off of it.
Wishing you a good weekend, and that if you are in the frozen Northern Hemisphere, that you stay as toasty as you please.
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Today I walked through the upper part of the graveyard that sits at the West End of Princes St, in a hollow by Princes St Gardens.
Damp and dark and sullen. The picture above taken at 1pm today.
Two churches share the burial grounds. Where that church stands, there has been a church since at least 850 AD.
Bracken and moss, and glaucous leaves and dew, and old blossoms still hanging wetly down or redly. The Lower graveyard, awaits me for tomorrow. Though if it’s sunny, I’m not sure I’ll be seeing it at its best.
One last picture, reveling in the grim November:
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Schietree 