5:58 am. A cold wet nose in my ear indicates that it's time to get up. The cold wet nose is followed by a lick and a snort. When Bob is very happy he snorts. By this indicator today is already a very happy day.
Bob hunts in a rose border for Furry Fox. He buried it there for safety last night. This is the canine equivalent of putting the car keys in an obvious place so that you can grab them as you rush out of the door in the morning.
Sophie wanders over to help him. The lustre of her nose makes it clear she is fine health.
Try as he might Bob can't find where he buried Furry Fox in the rose border. There is much digging and scattering of soil. He remains nonplussed by the disappearance of his furry friend. He puts it down to the malicious influence of C-A-T-S. The fact his sister has already found it and is wandering over the the far side of the orchard with the disheveled toy in her mouth escapes his notice.
Before we can get harnessed up and in the car Sophie stops and stares at a possible mole hole. Staring at a mole hole takes concentration and time. I call her over to the car but this morning she's suffering from clinical deafness.
Wild asparagus in the greengrocers ....
.... and an interesting chocolate concoction in the bakers display cabinet. We're early this morning. The croissants are still in the oven. When they appear Bob and Sophie make it clear that warm croissant crumbs are light years better than cold ones. Bob snorts for a second time.
The PONs days might not be getting more efficient but they seem to be way up there on the 'Run! Don't Walk !!' enthusiasm rankings.
From the BBC's 1943 archives : https://twitter.com/BBCArchive/status/997887608330928128
6 comments:
That first photo up at the top is just a beautiful portrait and seems really to capture the Bobness of Bob!
Hari OM
Wild asparagus??? Is it possible to drool at the thought of a vegetable??? Yup. I just joined the PONs. YAM xx
Just for trivia/information -- the 'wild asparagus' isn't strictly speaking asparagus at all. It is what in English English would be called Bath Asparagus, and in French asperges des bois. It is a plant called by botanists Spiked Star of Bethlehem Ornithogalum pyrenaicum. True wild asparagus hardly exists any more. It is a maritime plant, very rare and doesn't really produce much in the way of edible spears. The 'wild asparagus' most people here pick on roadsides and fallow land is naturalised garden asparagus which has sprung up with the help of birds transporting the seeds.
Poor Bob, his sister beats him to it every time !
The hackles (if I have any!) rose when I read the link you've posted ! Especially the comments about women reading the news. But weren't they all "Fwightfully posh" and it all sounds terribly snobbish too! Thank goodness things have changed.
Enjoyed scrolling down and recognising some of the familiar faces from my youth - in the 60's and 70's !
That wild asparagus doesn't look like the kind at the market or in the garrigue here. I was out for a walk recently and passed many families foraging for wild asparagus, including a father coaching a small girl in a ditch under some brambles!
I completely agree. He looks like a movie star!
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