Sitting in an English Garden Waiting for the Sun

Sometimes you go places where the people who live there swear up and down that it's not lovely, and there's nothing to see. Then you discover they're wrong, and find beauty all around you. If you're lucky, you can show those very same people that they are surrounded by lovely things and they'll be astounded. Sitting in an English Garden, waiting for the sun. But if the sun don't come, you get a tan from standing in the English Rain.

These aren't row houses you know.

The moors! I first heard about them when I read the Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett. Now I've stood on them. Cool.

A church peeking out from behind the undergrowth.

Rochdale Town Hall - I think it's bigger than Old City hall in Toronto, don't you?

Spring is springing there about 3 months before ours even deigns to get out of bed...

Poor angels. But lovely anyway.

He is not well pleased, his exchequer must be empty (St. Chad's, Rochdale)

I can never pass up a picture with a wonky tree. Makes me think of Ents.

So after a brief taste of spring, I'm back amongst the snowbanks, dreaming of crocuses (croci?) and moss, and daffodils.

xox

A.