Before this morning’s first shower descended I carried out a session of rose dead heading. Shirt sleeves kept me warm enough.
After a heavy spattering on our roof I introduced my lens to the sun briefly flirting with scudding cloud clusters.
Raindrops on various blooms and a few garden views came into view. The day, much of which I spent nearing the end of the second volume of Richard Church’s autobiography, continued with more overcast skies than with sunshine.
This evening we all dined on succulent roast pork with perfect tooth-testing crackling; crisp Yorkshire pudding and roast potatoes; crunchy carrots; firm broccoli and cauliflower; tender runner beans and spinach; and meaty gravy, with which Jackie drank more of the Lieblich and I drank Hacienda Uranus Garnacha Old Vines, 2020.