I was getting a bit lazy this week in the afternoon and not really going anywhere: just relaxing on the porch in the shade with the computer. Yesterday I pulled myself together and went for a wheelie. Another problem was that my midday sleeps were becoming longer and by the time I stopped hugging the bed it was too late to go anywhere in the afternoon. I must admit even yesterday was a shorter trip. I actually wanted to go into town, but turned around half way there and did the usual castle and farm tour. I noticed that even life in the country tends to take a pause in summer. It is really too hot for the animals. The only ones I see are the chickens
and even they tend to try for shadier places, all fighting for a place next to the wheel of their house
or perhaps in the shade of a goat who keeps a watchful eye on their antics and ensures that the fox does not get a chicken dinner.
Just as I rounded the corner to the back gates of the castle I heard a noise and saw a cloud of dust surrounded the harvester. It was time at last to mow the crops on the fields. For me being a child of London town, I only saw my first wheat crops at the age of 8 when we were on holiday on the english Kent coast. I remember I was fascinated. Mum did not know what they were, but dad did and confirmed that this was real wheat. I know it might sound strange, but I really grew up with the smell of damp concrete in the town. The only nature I saw were the weeds growing wild on the bombed out sites of old house ruins left from the war. The war ended in 1945, but it was not until the late 1950’s when the Brits began to clear away the rubble and build the high rise blocks in their place. The face of London had began to change, they just forgot our little street with the outside toilets in the garden and no central heating or running hot water until the seventies when they eventually demolished it all. I was then already married and settled in Switzerland.
So back to the harvester, after my digression. This is what the farmer left behind and probably today it will be gathered together and stored for cow winter food. The crows were the first to arrive to see if there were any pickings left for them.
I took many photos and may be writing something some time. I have a few projects in mind actually, just have to get round to writing them. Yesterday was a nice relaxing evening as Mr. Swiss and I have realised that food has become a side dish to our life. We eat to live and there are only the two of us at the moment. Yesterday evening it was a frozen pizza that Mr. Swiss cooked and I ate outside with the accompaniment of uploading photos to my computer.
Yesterday evening the sky was clouded over with dark clouds and I really thought it might rain to save watering the garden this morning, but no deal with the weather gods, so I will now leave you to spray the garden with its morning water. The lawn is looking perhaps a little better, it seems there is an underground threat from the cockchafer grubs that are merrily chomping their way through the grass roots. Yesterday the lady called us from the gardener who is the expert. Apart from spraying the garden with poison and leaving it for two weeks to develop or infecting it with some sort of mould which kills the little beasts slowly, but very slowly, there is not much we can do but just hope one day they will go away. Our cat is not keen on the poison solution. We have always had cockchafer grubs from our June beetles, but never such a problem. Seems to be one of those summers. At least the ugly squirmy little beasts stay out of sight.
It’s Saturday, so a day of doing nothing in particular, but I am sure to find something. Enjoy whatever you are doing today and if you are doing nothing, that is also good. I did discover a gladiola yesterday on my wheelie for a photo.