'How's your wound?' I said.
'My womb? Well if you're really that bored we can talk about my womb,' she said, and we cackled down the phone at each other.
'Your wound! Your wound!'
Perhaps the joke does not translate to the written blog...
She told me about a woodland walk she'd had in the early morning and I said 'I want to go!' so she kindly took me on Wednesday.
Since the easing of the lockdown, every sunny day in the Peak District is like an August Bank Holiday, so we met at 8 a.m. to beat the crowds for our walk, two metres apart from each other.
Ten minutes into the walk I felt humbled and ashamed to think of my bad mood the day before when all these beautiful trees are just 7 miles away. I suppose there is no shame in feeling cross and fed up, it's what you do with the mood that matters: chewing up a kindly help-meet is not OK. Attacking weeds or cleaning the bedroom is probably the way to go.
Enough of the sermonising, here are the photographs:
We were above the early morning mist |
The nine ladies stone circle |
Me, doing a walking meditation round the stones |
Liz and one of her favourite trees |
2 comments:
Lovely lovely!! We are still not allowed on the beaches or the mountain ...I get close to weeping I so miss it!
Oh, Marmee, I am sure you do!
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