If someone says, "there's no such thing as the wrong weather, just inappropriate clothes" once more I will have to resist the urge to swear loudly. There is such a thing as the wrong weather. It's called days and days of rain when it's supposed to be summer. July? Pah, I want my money back.
We're back from a few days in the south west where the three-day Healing Festival - our first time there, lots of tarot reading, cool stalls and very nice people - turned into a bit of a mudbath, as you can see:
This is the ground outside the main marquee on the third day:
Despite all this, our stall - complete with new cabinet which Richard made, doesn't it look good? - was looking packed and we had lots of compliments about the soaps (sooo relieved!) and the herbs, too. They weren't minding the rain a bit and the meadowsweet, for one, was in its element.
Although the miserable mud did, quite understandably, put some people off visiting it was a lovely event and there were even a few brave souls camping in the field/swimming pool next door. I met the brilliant Lynn Round of Twisted Willows and saw these cheeky chaps from the wildlife rescue next door:
We spent the next couple of days after the festival visiting Glastonbury nearby - the Chalice Well Gardens had the most amazing relaxing feel to them, so much so I almost drifted off while there, and the view from the windswept Tor was worth the wobbly legs on the climb up:
At Chalice Well:
Another favourite was Lyte Carey Manor, which once belonged to a herbalist and is now preserved by the National Trust. I'm not usually a fan of the super-formal gardens but this approach worked a treat. The sun even came out:
Inside, there were a series of 'rooms' most of which were sadly closed that day owing to flooding. We did, however, see the borders and this magnificent clary sage:
It's St Swithin's Day tomorrow. According to legend if it rains tomorrow, it'll rain for the next 40 days. Seeing as we've already had that, would it be all right for some sunshine? Please?