I woke early. Anticipation of the day always excites me, here, in Glenlyon. The weather is grey and mist hangs on the birch woods. The new coat of their fresh green leaves is dulled by the flatness of the light. There is a spring lushness around. Not the heavy, torpid obesity of the dark summer greens, but a soft verdance. It comes through despite the light.
It's amazing how much the plants have shot up in the last two weeks. Last night the verges were hanging with a wide variety of plants and flowers, all eager to grab the best of the light.
I need to try and capture that during today and tomorrow. Oh, and I'm pretty sure "verdance" is a word, and if it isn't, it should be.
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