Early morning after
*How fresh, how calm, stiller than this of course, the air was in the early morning; like the flap of a wave; the kiss of a wave;
We had a birthday celebration in the garden. I hadn’t realised how much I miss organising the Village Fayre! As soon as the trug of bunting emerged from the shadows I was smiling like the proverbial cheshire cat.
The opening lines of this post are by Virginia Wolf and feature in the first chapter of Mrs. Dalloway. I used to find Clarissa Dalloway terribly irritating, I now see that we are very similar. Take from that what you will but imagine my horror at this revelation.
Turns out the garden, after the revellers have gone, looks rather beautiful in the early morning bedecked in party finery. Remembering the balls from my youth, up all night, wandering home at dawn barefoot, heels in hand and somehow still twinkly eyed.
Also, I am absolutely enchanted by the sheep and bunting combo…
