A peculiar redness to last nights sunset and this mornings sunrise. The refracted colour a sign that the recent storms have thrown up a lot of sand from the Sahara into the atmosphere.
The lane outside The Rickety Old Farmhouse quiet. The schools don't start again until Monday. No harried mothers or late running teachers racing by in their cars. Our morning walk calm and uninterrupted. Angus sits on the storm drain and explains to a disappointed Bob that we can't subscribe to The Gorilla Channel.
Mid-morning a silver Toyota RAV4 arrives in the village. A couple have come to see the house by the village pond . This is being sold by the man who told his wife he was at a conference while he was really 'entertaining' his secretary at their holiday home. The smashing of the mans headlights , the slashing of his tires and the subsequent highly vocal confrontation ( the wife having returned there unexpectedly to find the happy couple ) still part of village folklore. The possible purchasers spend a full two hours looking over the house.
The PONs will be five years old next week. They are both still in that ' Why walk when you can run ? ' phase of life.
The remarkable Christmas tree with its 600 pre-programmed flashing lights is taken down. Bob has enjoyed sleeping in the middle of the upstairs hallway basking in its ever changing and ever so slightly manic glow.
At two in the morning he tiptoes down the stairs to join his sister who sleeps by the front door. Bobs tiptoeing wakes me up. What other animal bangs its wildly ( and happily ) wagging tail against the furniture as it tiptoes around ? Stealth is not a PON trait.
Angus is amazed to discover that you are not allowed to pump your own gas in NJ or ( until recently ) Oregon . The comments on this twitter link are priceless . A reminder that there is whole 'other' world out there : https://twitter.com/Kristytipsy/status/948333925901877248