The Cuckoo has Landed

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We certainly had an interesting day today. We headed into Harrogate to look at the pictures in an exhibition in the Mercer Art Gallery entitled "From Turner to Hockney." There were some beautiful pieces depicting Yorkshire, its towns and cities, the sea and the people seen through the eyes of many artists. I  was delighted to discover pencil drawings by the Bronte family; clearly they weren't just talented writers but also accomplished at sketching too. I really need to get some more practice in, if I am ever going to be able to produce anything nearly half as good.


Then we had lunch, a delightful mix of Swiss and Yorkshire, in the renowned Betty's Tea Rooms before strolling around the gardens at Harlow Carr. I spotted teasels that put the solitary plant on my walk earlier this week to shame and the arrays of dahlias were simply magnificent.

We stayed out far longer than we had intended, taking advantage of what must soon be the end of this long dry warm spell. 


When we got back there was a parcel waiting for me. I guess I have to be careful what I wish for, or even refer to on this blog, because a cuckoo flew out. It has now taken up residence on the youngest's empty bed and seems to be making itself quite at home. Worst thing is that it sings if you press its back. No prizes for what it sounds like: "Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo.."


Finally a wonderful sunset closed the day. It was accompanied by a cacophony of sound from the circling crows and geese flying overhead. Fortunately the cuckoo was silent.




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