It was calm and sunny when I got up at 7am.
It is now equinoctial, with rain flinging at the windows on an east wind honed to razor-sharpness.
The In-Charge had warned me, so I took the precaution of walking round the garden this morning, bidding adieu to all my lovely, upright daffodils.
I don't ever pick daffodils for the house because they last so much longer in the garden, and I'd rather see them there. Instead, I rescue odd handfuls of fallen ones every day..
There have been a lot of casualties this spring, thanks to the TeenQueen and Model Dog racing through the orchard every morning, not to mention the hens, who are extremely thoughtless where my flowers are concerned - despite my stern lectures - so between them all, my kitchen windowsill is generally full of broken daffodil heads stuck into little jars.
I expect there will be a big rescue-operation tomorrow as well, if this wind is anything to go by.
Down on the headland, I felt like Scott in the Antarctic, hat crammed on, earflaps firmly tied down, fighting my way into the wind. The dogs like the wind. They have the delicious sensation of being chased without being able to see who is about to grab them. They run so fast that you can't actually keep your eyes on them because it makes you dizzy. When they eventually slowed down I managed to get a - rather fuzzy - picture of them.
I think the horses like the wind too, although I felt rather sorry for them, having no shelter from it, especially the two tiny foals. They came running after us today, which they don't normally do, and for a brief moment, the TeenQueen thought of joining them for a mad dash around the lumps and bumps, but then she thought better of it.
Even she can count, and the odds weren't stacking up at all well
And they're bigger than she is.
And just a tinsy bit scary.
(I'm glad to say.)
So she high-tailed it inland across the rough grass, throwing out a challenge that Model Dog can rarely resist, and zig-zagged away like the hares she dreams about.
Then, on the far side of the headland, she spotted a flock of oystercatchers and managed to get them airborne in a flash, which was deeply satisfying.
It will be another exhausted evening on the fireside rug, I guess, and let the wind and rain do their worst.
Once the shutters are closed for the night, who cares?