Regular readers of my blog will no doubt be saying, "Not that lane again?" But I assure you, dear readers, that my beloved lane is never the same two days running. This afternoon, straight after Tesco's Lasagne (with the first peas and runner beans out of the garden), Tess and I set off for a two-mile stroll.
The sky was a deep, deep blue (it looks even deeper than it is through my tinted spectacles) and there were lots of puffy white clouds. As tomorrow is St. Swithin's Day here in UK, we always keep a weather-eye open in the twentyfour hours leading up to it. (St. Swithin lived from 800 to 862 and was Bishop of Winchester and chancellor to King Ethelwolf). For legend has it that whatever the weather on his Saint's Day, so will it be for the following forty days.
The trees on the lane are in full leaf and in places they meet across, forming a green tunnel all leafy and beautiful. At our turning point I leaned on the gate and looked down the woodland ride while Tess did her usual rabbit/deer check on every blade of grass. Looking down the ride, as the poet said, not a breath of wind, not a leaf stirred, there was not a bird to be seen (all moulting and keeping a low profile) and there was absolute stillness and silence - the best antidote I know to stress.
Walking back we came across a patch of bistort in a damp gateway. I stopped to take a photograph while Tess did her usual (see above). On the other side of the gateway our neighbouring farmer's herd of cows were grazing peacefully - another lovely Summer scene. But by now the sky was turning an angry grey. Yesterday, at about this time, we had a thunderstorm and half an inch of rain fell in ten minutes. So, still half a mile from home, we put our best feet forward only stopping to photograph a magnificent angelica plant already going to seed and standing tall and stately.
Today is Bastille Day in France, celebrating the storming of the Bastille in Paris in 1789. On this same date, according to today's Times, the first woman to reach the top of the Matterhorn achieved her objective in 1965 (in case you ask, her name was Yvette Vaucher).
Back home, no rain, sunshining again. Poor TFE (see my blog list) is so fed up with the rain over there in County Clare, that I fear he is developing webbed feet.