Rising above myself

Today’s guest picture comes from my sister Mary. She saw light at the end of a tunnel and found that it was a canal.

My cold improved slightly today, and I felt a good deal perkier. The weather did not respond and was chilly and misty . . .

. . . and the view from the garden when I went out to have a look did not encourage further exploration.

A spider had been busy spinning a web between the door of the car and a wing mirror . . .

. . . and I thought that it was worth a closer look.

The new position of the bird feeder under the plum tree is continuing to attract more birds to the garden. Without there being a big rush, I had a steady supply to keep me entertained through the morning, although the poor light made taking good pictures of them a little tricky.

Goldfinch and greenfinch

siskin, goldfinch, chaffinch and pigeon

It was good the see every perch on the feeder in use, and other birds in the tree above and on the lawn below.

I like blue tits so much that I gave a couple of them a separate panel of their own . . .

. . . and we even had enough birds to start a fight . . .

. . . though not enough light to take a good picture of the action.

When I wasn’t watching the birds, I spent the morning preparing the next newsletter for the Langholm Initiative, and it should be published soon. While I crouched over my computer, Mrs Tootlepedal went off to help with the Tarras Valley Nature Reserve volunteers. The group put up about thirty bird boxes beside the Tarras Water. A trail camera had been left there, and when they looked at the card on the return to the office, they saw very good pictures of an otter.

Mrs Tootlepedal had left a pot of broth simmering on the cooker when she went out, and it provided me with such a nourishing lunch that when I had finished a bowl of it, I put on my shoes and drove up to the White Yett to see if I could rise above the mist.

I could.

I parked the car at the MacDiarmid memorial car park, and walked up the track to the monument into a blinding sun.

I had my pocket camera with me and took pictures on my way up . . .

. . . and when I got to the top, the view was impressive, with the mist stretching up the Esk valley as far as I could see.

I had rushed up the hill, fearful that the sun might clear the mist away, but at 1°C it was cold enough to keep the mist over the town all day, and it was still there when I got back home.

It was beautiful on top of Whita . . .

. . . and on the other side of the hill, the moor and the Tarras Valley were mist free . . .

. . . so Mrs Tootlepedal and the other volunteers had enjoyed the sun while they worked.

Looking to the south, a small sea of mist spread out into England.

I was very pleased to have made the effort to get up the hill, and my cold was improved enough to let me walk up the hill without trouble.

I looked around for a while . . .

. . . and then headed back down to the car before I got chilled.

The mist did not extend up the Ewes Valley.

I stopped the car on the way down the hill and took a last picture in the sunshine . . .

. . . before plunging back into the murk.

I found Mrs Tootlepedal back from her volunteering and busy making gingerbread to a Mary Berry recipe. She had been inspired by a snack which group leader Kat had handed out to the bird feeder workers.

I had a couple of my home made date rolls while we were waiting for the gingerbread to cool, and then we gave the gingerbread a good test. I don’t think I will have lost any weight today, to say the least.

I did a little more work on the newsletter and then looked out of the window. The hills were hidden by the mist but to my surprise, I could see the moon in the sky above them. It is two days until the moon is completely full, but I thought that this was a good effort.

We finished the day with a sibling Zoom.

I took a lot of flying bird pictures in the morning but the light was so poor that I have put four of them together to make a composite flying bird of the day.