Walking the dog was just magical tonight. It's been mud soup all this past rainy, stormy Winter, but now it's like a Yeat's poem up there - last rays of the sun turning the clouds over the hills pink and lilac, and the evening glowing purple while the air fills with the sweet, waxy smell of gorse. The bright new Spring grass is wet with dew and the still air is full of birdsong. It was ... transporting.

I met a friend walking towards me, and it was lovely to see her and hug hello, while the dogs amused themselves - but to be honest it would have been just as nice to continue walking in that magical evening.

The Lake Isle of Innisfree by WB Yeats

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee;
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet's wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart's core.