This afternoon was a repeat, pretty well, of yesterday - clearing brambles and also chucking yesterday's logs up the bank so they can be wheelbarrowed back to the yard. My husband took the chainsaw to the remains of the dead (diseased) willow, so we have a goodly amount of firewood for next winter, and more to come as there are a couple of other trees at the paddock-edge to drop (one is half way there already).
Once again I had time to ponder things. Such as, if you truly did spend decades researching a book (on a very popular topic of history) you would think that you'd get someone to check out your Welsh translations for you . . . Nuff said, but having found one big mistake on the first page I opened it at, I am disinclined to place much faith in the rest of the research . . . It annoys me when folk have a theory and then manipulate hard-won research to justify it. Just as well it cost only 50p at the boot sale this morning . . .
Anyway, I had a short loosening-up walk on Friday morning. I set off before my husband drove over the hill for the paper, and got him to give me a lift up the steep valley side as I just knew I wouldn't be up to it. Then I walked some more and he gave me a lift back again. Usual array of river photos, but I hope they get you out of the house . . .
Water-worn rocks loop in scallops.
The sun lighting the waters downstream like they are bejewelled with diamonds.
The little wild daffodils which were once found by the acre in quiet Welsh woods and valleys.
Looking upstream from the lookout rock.
Wind anemones opening their little faces to the morning sun.
A very new lamb enjoys the sunshine with his mum.
This house used to be a pub, I believe, and then for some years stood empty and unloved.
Looking across the misty fields.