Respite

The wilds of the last few days have diluted into dull murk with a smattering of hail.   Last week was a washout workwise and I am twitching in my enforced respite.  I am hopeful for the coming week, the last before my January sabbatical.  And then respite of choice.  Before we know it, spring will be sprunging and skipping will be skipped.

In the meantime we could do with a bit of sunshine.  And, like this aralia at RHS Rosemoor a couple of weeks ago, we can reach to the skies.