A low key day

Today’s guest picture is a misty view from one of her morning walks captured by my neighbour Liz on her phone.

We had a second sparklingly cold day today but the sun’s radiance was darkened by the fact that Mrs Tootlepedal woke with such a streaming cold that, after getting up for breakfast, she had to retire to bed for the rest of the day.

This was doubly unfortunate as she had been going to come with me to sing with our choir as a tribute for a friend, a Carlisle choir member, who had recently died and whose funeral it was today.

As it was, I had time to fill the feeders and look out of the window.  The day was bright but the feeder outside the kitchen window sits in the shade for much of the morning at this time of year so although it was busy, the contrast with the bright light on the garden behind meant that it didn’t offer much to photograph.

Those who are not camera users may be surprised at how much more the camera sees than it tells you though.  Take the next picture…..

….this is what the camera told me it saw….

…but a run through the editor showed me that it saw more colour than it was letting on.

Still not brilliant but a bit more interesting.

The sun does strike the plum tree though so the camera could see a brambling quite clearly.

I didn’t have long to watch the birds though and leaving Mrs Tootlepedal nursing a cup of coffee, I drove down to Dalston where our friend lived.  I was a little early so I walked along the path to the river.

A couple of things caught my eye.

The low sun picked out the decorative bark on this tree

And the bridge across the river had picked up a lot of debris in the recent floods

The village hall at Dalston was packed with friends of Jenny for the gathering after her funeral.  She had been a member of the local ladies choir too and they were there to sing in her memory as well.  She had been a woman of many talents, artist, bell ringer, singer, cyclist, environmentalist, naturalist and a good friend to many.  Her loss was keenly felt by all who knew her.

She gave us some wild flowers from her garden late last summer and we hope that they will thrive this year in our garden as a living memorial to her.

Mrs Tootlepedal was still quite poorly when I got home but a small whisky toddy with honey and lemon revived her enough so that she could face a slice of toast and marmite later in the evening.

We hope for the best for tomorrow.

A flying bird of a sort, courtesy of the photo editor, appeared out of the morning shadows.