Tony Grist (poliphilo) wrote,
Tony Grist

The Last Day Of Summer

We've reached the end of summer, meteorologically speaking. Chris has let the horse into the lower field so she can spend the autumn munching her way through the accumulated herbage. The willows have lost most of their leaves- and the leaves of the horse chestnut look as though someone has been burning holes in them with a lit cigarette. I stood and gazed and a knobby, spiky conker dropped behind me.

We had blazing weather all though our short vacation- and it's warm today- but I believe rain is approaching. My sister has had family staying over two weeks and we're tired too so we agreed she'd pass on her normal weekend visit. Kristina is an inventive cook and my mother has been pampered while we've been gone. When I was tidying the living room this morning I found an all but untouched orangey drink sitting on the table by her armchair. It contained two sodden and faded strawberries- which is the sort of touch I'd never have thought of.

I have hundreds of photographs of East Anglian scenes to process- which will be pleasurable so long as I don't push ahead too hard. I've done a little already, but only a little. Next up are the pictures of Layer Marney tower- which might have been the grandest of all Tudor palaces if the builder hadn't died or the money hadn't run out or whatever. All that got built is the front range with its super colossal gatehouse. Henry VIII was an early visitor and took notes.
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