Sitting on the steps

I was flicking idly through the pictures on my computer and came across this one. I don't know how it got saved here, since very few of our photos from the pre-digital age are scanned in. I suppose the children must have been about 9, 7 and 3, and they're sitting on the steps in the back garden of our previous house.  It was a very nice house but the garden was extremely small, which I found frustrating because I was, and am, a keen gardener. Our current garden isn't exactly large either, and if we move again before we become entirely decrepit, I want a bigger garden.


I wonder what Son has in his hand. I can't imagine. It looks like a wooden pole but I don't remember any such thing. He was a gentle little boy and didn't go in for weapons.


We were very lucky that our children always got on very well. Daughter 1 thought Daughter 2 was wonderful (I think she still does) and so just always let her have what she wanted, and they were both very motherly towards Son and let him have whatever he wanted, which all made things very peaceful. Or so I remember and I think it's true. They were all, however, assiduous players with toys and used to draw and cut out and generally make a tremendous mess. It's easy to remember things with a rosy glow, but I do remember spending lots of time picking up after them; in fact, this was my principal occupation in those days. On the whole, I did it rather than getting them to do it, because it was quicker and easier - or again, this is what I remember. They might disagree. As Laurie Lee said - and it's one of my favourite quotations - "There is no pure truth, only the moody accounts of witnesses".

Tra la

So it's spring, and we went to the Botanics without the children and the rhododendrons are so beautiful.

And so are the daffodils.

And this cherry tree

 and this erythronium

and this pear, and lots more besides.

And then we had the children yesterday and today. Grandson had a go with the half-moon cutter with which Mr L tidied up the edges of the lawn.

And Granddaughter reacquainted herself with the properties of sand in the sand pit. Ah, lovely spring.

We took the low road

(As ever, Blogger selects one photo to make large. Why???). Anyway, yesterday we went for a walk round St Mary's Loch. It was cold but - sometimes - sunny, though it did occasionally drop little bits of hail down on us.

Luckily it wasn't windy, as you can see by the relatively calm water.

This is a pretty little church that overlooks the loch.

About five miles on, we were still fairly energetic.

There were lots of little lambs, kept at safe distance from us by their mums.

And after seven miles we got back to the car park, where - there was planning involved here - we had coffee and cake in the café. It was such a lovely day out: hills, water, good friends, nice chat (and also, at one point, slightly too-interested cows which had trampled the path into very muddy mud  - but we'll forget about that).

Weather

(Ah yes, a random big picture again. What are you up to, Blogger?) Nothing much is happening of any note (plumber, oven mender - both for Daughter 2's rented-out flat in Edinburgh), patchworking and quilting (both happy activities on the whole), the grandchildren (adorable, but you know, probably not quite as adorable to you as to me). So - weather. We drove along by the shore yesterday and this was happening - wind-tossed breakers.

And through the misty Queen's Park, where we noticed that you couldn't see the Pentland Hills in the distance, behind the trees.

And then through the Meadows, where the daffodils made a bright show.

And then today...

Spring seems to have retreated again. Sorry, any tourists who have unwisely decided to visit Edinburgh. Brrr. Splosh.

Grannyhood

It's always a pleasure to take the little ones to the Botanics. Here, they're using fallen rhododendron flowers as finger hats, in the age-old children-at-Botanics tradition. (How long will it be before Grandson becomes too sophisticated for such outings with Granny? Don't grow up, little N!)

They admire the daffodils. At least, Granddaughter does. I think Grandson had spotted a distant tractor.

This is in the little memorial hut put up in memory of the Queen Mother.

Back here, Grandson makes road layouts as usual. Then he took my photo. Not perhaps my most flattering angle but it's at least fairly soft-focus.

Aaah

A very self-indulgent post (mind you, what other kinds are there?) - I took Grandson the other day to buy a white shirt because he was to be page boy at a wedding (at which Granddaughter was to be flower girl). He was intrigued by the different views of himself in the mirrors.

Then he looked at his feet and enquired, "Why are my feet in the reflection when the mirror doesn't go down to the ground?" Granny was unable to think of a succinct answer... ok, an answer. But we found a suitable shirt.

Before the bride's arrival, Granddaughter was clutching her fluffy blanket, which wasn't part of the outfit.

A certain amount of finger-sucking took place but they behaved impeccably.

Can you tell the difference between Grandson and Uncle Son? There were lots of men in kilts, Thimbleanna!

Daughter 2 and her niece enjoy a cuddle.

They pose with their dad, Son-in-Law 1.

In a quiet moment, Granddaughter admires her bouquet,

and Grandson stands on a plinth. It was a lovely day.