Saturday 1st April - Thurs, Fri, Sat, All's well that ends well

A couple of days have slid past in a haze of ....haziness...

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Foggy_Hills_%28Unsplash%29.jpg

I think it's one's age, or rather one's parent's age. If he's around 90 years old give or take a few years, then even if he's reasonably well, and reasonably active, and managing very well on his own, there are bound to be situations, events, things happening, which take time, mental and physical resources. They are not necessarily major, serious, or urgent, but there you go, and there they are, and there it all is (to avoid saying anything at all specific).

The last couple of weeks have been one such thing. 

Anyway, thanks to the wonders of the National Health Service, everything is fixed, sorted, and it is all 'as you were' now. I hope. Until the next time. 

However it all takes its toll. For me, it resulted in days, or weeks maybe of total immersion in Freecell and Suduko on the computer I discovered exactly how much they bore me now - a couple of games and I am thinking 'why am I doing this?', shut the program and move on.

I have finished the March Cross Country Collaboration and it was posted yesterday - I won't post a picture of my stitching as I am not sure if Ang has received it yet. I'll leave you with a clue;

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the milky way,

They stretched in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not but be gay,

In such a jocund company:

I gazed—and gazed—but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.

William Wordsworth, of course.  There is an entry in Dorothy Wordsworth's diary about the daffodils too.

Actually, that picture of misty hills at the top of this post gives me an idea for April... although maybe it's not seasonal enough. What shall I do for this month's picture????