Friday, June 05, 2020

Lockdown river walk - week 11 - Friday

Again, this is what the river walk looked like early on in lockdown...

and here's what it looks like now - not in quite the same bit. It graphically shows the passage of lockdown time.

All these leaves have come out, uncaring (reasonably enough) about what people are getting up to.

Here the chap, wandering on ahead as I take pictures of the lush vegetation but this time wearing his summer jacket. His Australian cousins, when they came a few years ago, were convulsed with mirth at the thought of a summer jacket. But it's what you wear on days like this, when it's got a bit chilly and might rain.

We climbed up the steps to the gallery and I looked over the fence to see how the cafe garden was doing. The plants were doing fine. The cafe itself, however, was unsurprisingly shut.

So we went round the front and sat for a while looking at these seagulls (I'm saying lesser black backed, Barrie - contradict me if you like) which had the Landform to themselves. It's closed too, though actually some small children had slipped through the fence and were running along the tiers for a while.

And then we walked home.

Ours is a pretty useless existence at the moment, unless you call quilting useful. The family are all good at sending us photos and videos of the children - which are much, much better than nothing. But it's not the same as seeing them and doing things with them. I shall be 70 next month, by which time I don't expect much to have changed. One must count one's blessings: good health, a comfortable home, a nice husband (maybe I should have put him earlier in this list... ) enough money - all these things are of course very valuable. But I feel we're just marking time... time which we don't really have on our side. It makes me think of what it must have been like for old people during the world wars, living in limbo, knowing that they were very likely not to see their grandchildren ever again. All we have to do is wait for a few more months. It's not that bad.

(Though it's not at all good.)

By the way, Margaret asks if foxgloves are weeds. Hmm, good question. A weed is a plant in the wrong place and all that. They're native plants, but they're pretty and fairly well-behaved so I'm saying they're not weeds. I love them. I always associate them with summer holidays because they grow beside country roads and when we were children, we used to put the fallen flowers on our finger tips like little hats. But they also grow in my garden, where they're welcome because they're easily pulled out if they're in the wrong place.


  1. I know exactly how you feel about marking time. I'm very impatient to see my new grandson, yet it will be a huge production (and quite intimidating) to get back to New York to visit. I can't take my advantages for granted and yet this isn't the life I want to live! Does Mr. L still have his beard? Hard to tell in the photo. I think foxgloves are beautiful; the ones I saw were purple. I wouldn't mind having some in my flowerbed!

  2. A foxglove (at least here on LI) is definitely NOT a weed... you pay a lot to buy them for your garden, and you're damn lucky if they live long and prosper! I have bought (and sadly lost) three in the past few seasons, and have all but given up on them. I suppose my garden is just too shady for them... but I thought they loved shade. Ah, well.