Mist over Nuffield

On a whim, I got off the bus at the station, rather than George St. this morning. I’m glad I did, as I saw this beautiful sight.

Season of Mists…

This is the garden at approx. 07:30 this morning. And no, I have no idea what I was doing up at that hour. The mist was quite lovely, and I half expected to see some spectral figure emerge (an evening with Dr Bones does that to a girl).

The mellow fruitfulnes is being provided by our lemon tree. Just as the gin and tonic season is ending! [If you want to read the Keats poem I’m alluding to, you can find it here, and it’s worth it]

Otherwise, I was down in Kent this weekend. As you can see, ‘that creature Desmond’ doesn’t think much of that reading lark.
Once I got back it was the usual weekend stuff – supper with friends, washing the cat and a lovely, long phone call from Huw and Anastasia. I now have to gird my loins, and get ready for a couple of weeks breaking things. I’m tempted to turn up wearing my nice, leopard skin (fake!), pointy boots. Just to start as I mean to go on…