Thankful Thursday: Neighbours - Again

I woke and rose around 0630 this morning.  It was still dark.  Sunrise today was at 0808.  Not that anyone on Lewis would have known that because it was an almost dark 8℃ with a Northerly force 6 blowing.  I'd forgotten what getting up every morning in the dark was like.  When I lived through permanent Lewis winters the dark didn't really worry me.  In summer with it's 24 hour light one does summer things and in the depths of winter with it's 6 hours of light (if you were lucky) then one hunkers down and does winter things.  I sometimes use the fact that I don't have that hunkering down time now as an excuse for not doing so many of the jobs I want to do such as sorting out my thousands of non-digital photos.

This morning after I got up I sat with the computer reading blogs, writing some emails and generally forgetting all about time.  I had nothing planned for the day and I certainly will not be venturing into the garden.  So in the kitchen I sat with my hot waters and lemon until rather disgracefully late and, still in my dressing gown (it's just too temptingly warm on these cold mornings), I went and had a shower.

As I stepped out - about 10 am - the phone rang.  It was my next door neighbour.  "Are you OK?"  "Er, yes." "Your blinds in the living room and bedroom are still closed and I've been really concerned because you are never in bed at this hour of the morning."

I hadn't visited that side of the house since I'd got out of bed.

I've mentioned before on Thankful Thursday - many times I'm sure - what wonderful friends and neighbours I have.

So this morning I am repeating how very very thankful I am for such wonderful friends and neighbours who make sure that everything is well in my world.  I am an extremely fortunate fellow.

Some Carry Water

and some carry last night's left over wine:

In the railway station at La Spezia in Italy when we were on holiday.

Skies Over Harris

On the day that Viv and I went to Harris and saw the Eagles we also saw some interesting skies.  The first of these photos was taken at Laxay on Lewis looking down over the Harris hills and shows wonderful mare's tails clouds.  The second was taken over Harris during a particularly dramatic weather moment in what was generally a lovely day.  Both these photos were taken by Viv - mine didn't meet expectations.

Gardening and Music

Today dawned and looked promising.  I'm not sure what it looked as though it was promising but it was definitely promising something.

I've been gardening for fortyodd years.  I've done a lot of gardening.  I have moved hundreds, yes hundreds, of tons of soil and stone making gardens.  Did I enjoy it?  Well that's not so easy to answer.  It kept me fit when I had a desk job.  Most people I know who love gardening enjoy it as a therapy.  I've never really enjoyed it.  It's something I do because I have to and because the result gives me satisfaction: satisfaction but not enjoyment.  Until today.  Today I spent a large part of a sunny, windless, cold (and midge-free!) day in the garden.  And I very much enjoyed it.  The situation helps, of course.

By 5.30 this evening I ached.  I did something I rarely do: I ran the spa bath and lay in very hot water  and when the spa didn't drown it out I listened to the symphony that I would take with me to a desert island if I was only allowed one.  Of course I'd never want to make that choice because what I want to listen to depends on my mood - like most people I assume.   In this case though it's a piece of music which connects deeply with me.  It is Dvorak's First Symphony: The Bells of Zlonice.  It's not a particularly popular piece in the concert halls but the second movement contains, for me, some of the most moving phrases.  I don't pretend to have a good musical ear but this is one of the pieces of which I have multiple recordings and actually have an outright favourite: Witold Rowiki's London Symphony Orchestra 1971 recording.