At summer's end in Grasmere, Cumbria, in the Lake District. Where William Wordsworth wrote of daffodils.
I said something on Facebook about the many bouquets of flowers that arrived in the hands of friends for The Last Bash, so today's travel pictures take you from my house to my garden where I captured them all before they fade. The hydrangea with accompanying daisy are from my neighbor's garden. The others range from minimalist in a jar to the lush of red and pink roses, with all the glory of the summer garden in between:
Lorrie, who steals any show.
Michael and Mary and Melissa and Johannes, who make dinner taste twice as good.
Kasandra, of blessed memory. Walking home together in the early early mornings.
Read more about Fair Weather Friends
20 years ago. My first Fair. Waiting for a friend outside the Dragon Gate. I hear a cheery "Hi, Barbara!" from somewhere behind and above me. I whirled around to see a woman I had met only a couple of times before, towering over me, dressed in flowing green, on a pair of stilts. Lorrie and I are good friends today. I haven't seen her on stilts lately - she loves to make costumes and entertain people on The Eight, the pathway that winds through the fairgrounds in the vague shape of a figure 8. Read more about The Wedding Party