It has been very chilly here in Cornwall. Yes, I am envious of those of you who were not only served a main course of sun this week, but had a side order of temperatures up in the high teens to accompany...bah! Anyhoo, these images are from a trip to the beach during the recent holidays; Isabella and her pal Nell racing in the breeze and whipped up by it as much as the waves were. Bliss.
I am hopeful for similar weather this weekend though it is not looking likely. As I type the clouds are gathering once more. We have plans: the front garden is returning again to a veg plot as it has the best of the sun and Isabella is desperate to start planting out. Yet again, we are going to be removing the grass but this time raised beds are planned - four of them running from hedge to house, each able to hold a goodly amount of scrumptious veg. I am excited.
However, these days I like my gardening to take place in warmer weather than we have at present I have become a softie south-coaster, my north Cornish roots once so used to hammering gales and an ever-pervasive chill now hide away under snuggly blankets rather than get frozen to pieces. I want the sun please for the raising of beds tomorrow!
Mind you, I still race to the wild seas when the winds whip up, the white horses galloping over each other to reach the shore first. These two girlies chased the sea back & forth, clothes slightly dampened in the process of course. Has Isabella ever been near water and stayed dry?
Wish I looked cool in sunnies.
Unfortunately I have a head the size of a pin and have to wear children's glasses which tend to make me look (apparently) like something from Larson's 'The Far Side'. Not quite the look I am after really, though I have finally given in to failing eyesight & vanity and am collecting new glasses tomorrow. This is very exciting as it means I will be able to sew in public - i.e. on the beach - without pitying glances being thrown my way by those more suited to such things than pinhead here.
Not too sure how I moved from the beach to gardening and sunglasses but there you are. Stream of consciousness. It worked for Mrs Woolf. Now there's a thought: perhaps a little fictional writing could be wrought into the weekend. It has been a long time since I did any. What thinks you? No? Oh, ok then...
Nothing like the feel of sand through your fingers is there Nell?
Is it any wonder our house / car / washing machine are permanently full of sand?
I am rambling appallingly and so will leave you with my hopes for the weekend: building four raised beds for veggies; gardening in our very lovely but very wintery looking back garden; restraining the ducks within the confines of their pen once more & generally wearing my new glasses whether I need to or not just because. No fictional writing. Oh, and there will be wine...of course. There is always room for wine in a weekend.
And you? What shape are your plans for the weekend? x