It was a fine, warm autumn afternoon, so Algy tucked himself down into the long grasses and rested. In the quiet and peaceful environment of his remote home on the wild west coast of Scotland, he was thinking of all his wonderful Tumblr friends, dispersed in so many different places around the world: old friends and new friends, young friends and old friends, healthy friends and sick friends, urban friends and country friends. So many different people, with so many different experiences…

Algy knows that many of you live busy and sometimes even stressful lives, with many different challenges to face. So he sends you all his fluffiest hugs, and hopes that you will all take some time this weekend just to rest awhile:

Come, rest awhile, and let us idly stray
In glimmering valleys, cool and far away.

Come from the greedy mart, the troubled street,
And listen to the music, faint and sweet,

That echoes ever to a listening ear,
Unheard by those who will not pause to hear­

The wayward chimes of memory’s pensive bells,
Wind-blown o’er misty hills and curtained dells.

One step aside and dewy buds unclose
The sweetness of the violet and the rose;

Song and romance still linger in the green,
Emblossomed ways by you so seldom seen,

And near at hand, would you but see them, lie
All lovely things beloved in days gone by.

You have forgotten what it is to smile
In your too busy life­; come, rest awhile.

[Algy is quoting the poem Come, rest awhile by the late 19th/early 20th century Canadian author Lucy Maud Montgomery.]

The year was slowly drawing to a close, and the nights were growing longer and longer. Algy perched on the hillside in the gloaming, in a spot overlooking the horseshoe bay, and gazed into the west. The last glimmers of light were always far out to sea, beyond the clouds, and beyond the islands. As he watched the colours fade out of the landscape, he thought of the opening verses of a poem:

          Come, for the dusk is our own; let us fare forth together,
          With a quiet delight in our hearts for the ripe, still, autumn weather,
          Through the rustling valley and wood and over the crisping meadow,
          Under a high-sprung sky, winnowed of mist and shadow.

          Sharp is the frosty air, and through the far hill-gaps showing
          Lucent sunset lakes of crocus and green are glowing;
          ‘Tis the hour to walk at will in a wayward, unfettered roaming,
          Caring for naught save the charm, elusive and swift, of the gloaming.

[Algy is quoting the first two verses of the poem November Evening by the late 19th/early 20th century Canadian author Lucy Maud Montgomery.]

As the day progressed, the mist gradually slid back up the mountains and merged with the clouds once again. And then, little by little, the great mass of cloud began to break up, and the sun shone through. Suddenly the world was full of beautiful colours. Algy felt happy and lighthearted; he took to the wing, and flew for a few miles down the shores of the great loch, looking at all the scenery in its early summer finery. After a while he spotted the first foxgloves of the year, and paused to rest beside them in the afternoon sunshine. The woods behind him were bordered with rhododendrons in full flower – a beautiful sight, although a threat to the native woodland. It had turned into a lovely afternoon, and as he reclined beneath the foxgloves, looking out across the loch, he was reminded of a poem:

          The dawn laughs out on orient hills
          And dances with the diamond rills;
          The ambrosial wind but faintly stirs
          The silken, beaded gossamers;
          In the wide valleys, lone and fair,
          Lyrics are piped from limpid air,
          And, far above, the pine trees free
          Voice ancient lore of sky and sea.
          Come, let us fill our hearts straightway
          With hope and courage of the day.

          Noon, hiving sweets of sun and flower,
          Has fallen on dreams in wayside bower,
          Where bees hold honeyed fellowship
          With the ripe blossom of her lip;
          All silent are her poppied vales
          And all her long Arcadian dales,
          Where idleness is gathered up
          A magic draught in summer’s cup.
          Come, let us give ourselves to dreams
          By lisping margins of her streams.

Algy hopes that you are all enjoying “a magic draught in summer’s cup” too :))

[Algy is quoting the first two verses of the poem A Summer Day by the early 20th century Canadian poet and author, Lucy Maud Montgomery.]

Algy’s oldest friends were facing ill health and many challenges, so he sat quietly by their favourite loch at twilight and thought of them.

          Oh, what a poignant rapture thus to be
          Lingering at twilight by the ancient sea!

Algy quotes from A Shore Twilight by Lucy Maud Montgomery.