Down of a Thistle
Here's a perfect example of vacation thinking. Were I at home, I would find the thistle a weed and the fluff frustrating evidence of its spread. But in Scotland, I found it enchanting, winged messengers of hope and beauty.
Watching the gossamer stuff float through a heathered Highland landscape was a magical experience. It brought the Clement Clarke Moore lines to mind:
"He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle/And away they all flew, like the down of a thistle ..."
And that's just what we did — fly away, that is. I miss that magical vacation thinking.
(I saw a lot more heather than thistles.)
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