The tree surgeon arrives at first light. He's here to make sure the trees by the barn haven't been damaged by the spring storms . The PONs watch him clamber through the branches with canine amazement. Bob sports his ' Blimey ! Take a look at that ! ' face.
On the village green the political posters for the Presidential election have been covered by a poster of an ageing crooner and an advert for a music festival in a market town twenty miles away.
Sophie joins me on a long cross country walk. She loves wandering free through the long grass. Sophie grazes as she walks. She particularly enjoys a clump of tall clover. By the end of her walk through the undergrowth she's looking more like a sheep than a dog.
The tree surgeon is still busy at work when we get home. The PONs spend their morning staring at him. They find falling branches to be particularly exciting. Falling branches are an excuse to hurtle round the garden at high speed.
7 comments:
Great to read that Sophie is now enjoying long cross country walks.
Also enjoyed the Martin Rees interview. A voice of sanity.
Cheers, Gail.
I'd read the Martin Rees article before. Whilst I have immense respect for his philosophical outlook and scientific background, and agreed with almost everything he said, I am amused that after telling us that experts need to be aware of their limitations, he is then perfectly prepared to express opinions on at least two subjects outside his field of expertise :-) Good on him, frankly. Life's complicated and scientists are thinking private citizens too. Anyone who can articulate an opinion in a measured way with some indication of their thought processes behind it is fine by me. It's the blind believers you've got to watch out for.
Falling branches, a snack on clover - sounds like it's shaping up to be another good PON day. Not the best, because there's no mention of any flakes of misshapen croissant or a smidgen of cheese, in the offing. Never mind - there's always tomorrow.
We had a similar tree surgeon work on our place a couple of years ago. He hopped amongst the branches like a little bird. He also was exceptionally handsome, just one more reason to watch him work. I kept hoping his mother had never seen him in action, higher than our rooftop, flitting from branch to branch with a chainsaw in hand. Afterward, he put all the smaller branches through a chipper (he kept the big ones to burn himself for heat) and spread out the chips around our oleander. Win-win--less for him to cart off, and we got mulch.
Frankly, Christophe is looking himself like a vestige of chaos.
My head spins just looking at the tree surgeon so high in the branches. The word precarious springs to mind.
I especially like the picture of a grazing Sophie.
He looks like a mutant squirrel. No wonder Bob was amazed.
After a tornado touched down in our back yard several years ago, we became very friendly with all the tree cutters. While not a fond memory in our neighborhood, no one was injured. The tornado followed the path of the creek, uprooting, breaking, splitting and twisting trees. We all got a lot of mulch!
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