Today’s guest pictures, sent to me by Bruce, shows some of the inhabitants of Gilnockie who haven’t decided how they are going to vote in the forthcoming general election.
It was hard to know who or what to blame. Was it the dry spell making for dusty conditions, was it the flowers in the garden or pollen from neighbouring trees, was it dust from the end wall work which still lies in many nooks and corners of the house or was it just life? Whatever it was, my breathing was a little below par today and I was happy to wander around doing as little as possible.
I was assisted in this by Dropscone, who brought round some of his traditional Friday treacle scones. He had already cycled 20 miles and I was happy to have let him do the work for today. The scones were very good.
Mrs Tootlepedal was varnishing away in the front room and in between letting coats dry, she moved some of the furniture back in during the day. I lent a small hand from time to time. In a startling move, some of the furniture has gone to a different corner of the room than it occupied before. It will take me a year or two to get used to this.
The change in the weather predicted by the forecasters had begun but it was still a pretty pleasant if windy morning and i walked round the garden…
In the mornings recently, teams of sparrows have been ranging the lawns pecking away and today they were adding a few dance steps to their routine.
I paused in the Clinthead garden to enjoy the good work the gardeners have done.
There were flowers growing wild by the side of the road as I walked up to the Lodge….
…and on the branch.
I do know a lime tree though.
After a while two other wrens, scrapping furiously, emerged from the undergrowth like rockets and disappeared. I would like to have known what was going on. (Wrens are very small and hard to photograph!)
When I got home, Mrs Tootlepedal and I set to work reducing the pile of cherry tree logs to firewood with the aid of our neighbour Liz’s log splitter. While we were at work, Liz herself appeared and seizing the splitter from us, spilt twice the number of logs that we had and in half the time. She loves splitting logs. We stood to one side saying things like, “You won’t be able to split this large misshapen and knotty log,” in innocent tones. That was like a red rag to a bull to her and firewood soon flew off in all directions.
I had time to be impressed by the flourishing dog’s tooth violets….
I rounded off a quiet day with an even quieter evening.
The flying bid of the day is a very determined chaffinch.