A bunch of flowers for Monday morning.
The dahlias are in their final flourish… I suspect that in a couple of weeks they will be almost over. So it was a nice thing to be able to pick a bunch of flowers from the garden before going over to coffee with my friends Chris and Caddy this morning.
It’s been a weekend of quiet visiting. For the first time ever, really, I’m looking at Dorset through new eyes. We’ve been to old places and old friends and it’s been great.
This afternoon, lunch with my brother and sister-in-law, followed by a beautiful walk through soft early-autumnal woods and meadows.
The stone bay window that I added to Jon & Laura’s house a few years ago is mellowing. The soft autumnal light suited it well.
After the happiest afternoon we left and made our way home. The light had taken on extraordinary qualities – and we made a detour to the coast.
The road down to Abbotsbury had never looked more beautiful.
And on the way home, another detour, to serene Friar Waddon House, which regular readers will know is about my favourite in the whole of Dorset. The facade glowed grey-pink in the evening light.
As did the garden back home. I’m not quite sure how all the dahlias in the border got the soft apricot or palest pink memo; I don’t think it was by design, but if it was an accident, it works.
The veg garden is slowly getting ready to go to bed for the winter, but cosmos and sunflower linger on in these warm autumn days and nights.
The dahlias have had the best year of their lives.
And, lying in bed right now, everything in the valley completely still and silent, I’m wondering if I have had too.
No need to say anything else. Happy weekends are made of this. Pottering around, revisiting old friends and old haunts, and doing nothing in particular at all; but for once, it all feels very new as well.
