Bob wakes with the irrepressible belief that this is going to be an outstanding day. New faces, new places and new experiences are in store. Complete strangers may come up and say hello. There may be sausages. A cold wet nose finds its way into Angus's ear at 6:00 am. A tail thwack-thwack-thwacks against the bedside table. In fact Bobs tail is a near constantly moving appendage.
Sophie has a more focused approach to a Wednesday morning. A walk and then a lengthy trip to the bakers are what she has in mind. Perhaps afterwards a tickle and a game of throw the Furry Fox ? Maybe, later, a dessicated vole ?
The air near freezing this morning. The sun saunters slowly into the shimmering sky. The perigee moon ( The Font informs me that it's just past the closest point on its elliptical orbit ) stands proud behind us. Another one set for December 3rd.
All the fields ploughed. Some planted with winter wheat. I've never known a part of the world as blessed with soil and temperate climate.
The two new horses in the field by the crossroads seem uninterested in the PONs.
The bakers has run out of croissants ! There was no butter to make more than a couple of dozen. I ask the bakers wife whether she'd use margarine. A look of profound disgust crosses her face. '' Monsieur a croissant can only be made with French butter. If you want something cheaper go to a supermarket ". That's me told ! Despite their owners vulgarity Bob and Sophie get given some choux pastry.
Yuccas in full bloom on the roundabout by the hardware store. The exotic and the mundane.
Some Twitter threads are thought provoking and challenging - : https://twitter.com/b_judah/status/927885258187591680