Today the sirene song of Dawyck proved to be too strong to resist and I wound my way through the high and byways towards it, with the sides of the roads resembling a white cloud where hawthorn blossom and cow parsley met. I was only accompanied by the Canon and for the rest was alone with my thoughts.
First of all I again wandered up and down the azalea and rhododendron walk. It might have been my imagination but there seemed to be even more colour than on the last visit.
The garden was so quiet that I could imagine myself completely alone, with only my senses to guide me.
Eyes, of course
but also smell and sound. The babbling of the water falls,
the honking of the pheasant cocks
the grasses rustling under my feet, the wind in the top of the trees, the call of the birds, combined to give shape to the sound of summer.
It was one of those perfect afternoons when life is sheer joy. A time to store that beautiful sense of happiness to sustain me into the future. Again it was almost impossible to tear myself away.
The garden however will always be there and I will return again many times, hopefully. The moments will never be the same again but those times yet to come will be just as lovely in their own way.
Darjeeling tea and Corn Poppy 8 by Carol Taylor provided the final pleasure.