Winter Shadows

 Winter Shadows. 

Long. 

A fragile brightness. 

Then gone. 

A mark upon the wall that wasn't ever there at all.

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So back to a smaller font size: Easier on the eye, always more manageable and less shouty. Sunday was yesterday. A day without much bird activity in the garden, a few nibbling here and there but it was as if they were all having a day off. "Staying in a barn, keeping themselves warm and hiding their heads under their wings", as the story goes. I made soup but was troubled by the fact that it seemed to smell of soup. Soup on some higher plane. I'm not my best critic or observer. At least my sense of smell tells me I'm Covid free. Then there was a smoked bacon encounter, a brief argument with a robot till, some pruning of the bushes and shrubs and the regular weekend task of trickle charging. 

In the front garden the new water feature, also known as a burst water main situated further up the hill, continues to entertain and amuse us as it washes away the foundations of the house. Scotland certainly knows how to waste it's water, we're world class but will come to regret it once the Tories use it to refill the Thames. We've had traffic lights and barriers around the incident for a week but nothing else has actually happened. I realise that, at this time, it's harsh and unwise to judge Scottish Water (the company) too quickly, there will be some back story no doubt.

Saturday found me out three times picking up road warning signs (for the water main) that had blown over. A police car sat at the traffic lights as I re-erected the fallen signs. The two man crew quietly observed my actions (those of a good citizen I'd say) as if I was some kind of idiot taking the law into his own hands. In my head I had already prepared a long and sweary monologue that I intended to recite to them. However when the lights changed they quickly moved on, no doubt headed for the MacDonald's drive through. Anyway, none of this is important, just winter shadows blowing in and out.