Saturday morning in a quiet French village. It seems Sophie and her master are the only creatures up and about. This isn't entirely true. On the village pond one of the moorhen mothers hurriedly shepherds her chicks into the safety of the shrubbery. She clucks loudly as she does so.
A sign has appeared on the village weigh station informing us that repair works will take place in the autumn. This is gloriously imprecise. The metal railings that were put up to stop people parking on the scales wooden beams have gone. The possibility of a delivery van parking there and disappearing into the void under the rotting timbers must be something that someone... surely ? .... must have thought of.
Outside the chateau gate six wheel barrows all washed and carefully lined up. This fixation on order is perhaps why Angus will never be a billionaire.
The Old Farmer returns home. Today is a day for tending to the venerable Ford Transit motor home. ' I'm hoping we'll be able to get away in it for a week in August if I can fix the brakes'. Angus looks at the motor home and quietly thinks that 'hope' is the only thing that will get it down the lane to the crossroads. He keeps this thought to himself .
Our morning tour of the village takes forty five minutes. I could do it alone in less than ten. When you have a dog you can never be in a rush. Why hurry when there are scents on every tree and perfumes on every lamp post ? There are also goats and donkeys to be greeted. Today there's a friendly Boxer staying at the house by the crossroads. He's keen to play with Sophie. Sophie's less keen to play with him. In a hectic world moving at a dogs tempo is a great gift.
17 comments:
I too try to treat over-leisurely outings with Bertie as a gift. Walks with an eleven year old dog with cancer of the bladder are sadly becoming ever slower, as ontop of all the sniffing. the time taken to force out the pee becomes longer and longer. We soldier on for now, but I fear the tumour, long held at bay, is finally winning.
Sorry to read this. Bertie is such a vivid character in your posts, I never imagined he was ill.
It only seems like yesterday when Bertie showed up as a bundle of constant movement. Now come those special moments with a trusting companion. Every new morning both a celebration and a victory. Stay strong. Everyone on the blog is wishing for many many more leisurely outings.
Hari OM
Oh look - moorhens! I've seen a Pika in action - great wee package. YAM xx
Hari OM
Indeed - as honourary aunty to Bertie, I was so grateful for his recent visit to the Hutch (and Gail, too, of course!) He is every bit the fine wee man that all perceive from his blog. Yxx
Gail, I am so sorry. If there is anything I can do, please shout.
Indeed, both mother and chick clearly visible today! I was thinking of the other day's taco menu today when I read that Dominos Japan has issued a public apology after being called out by Londoners on Twitter for its new fish and chips pizza. As I understand it, any of you from the UK (or perhaps any Commonwealth nation) are now entitled to a free fish and chips pizza if you make your way here.
I'm not sure a fish and chips paizza would justify the air fare !
They remain the most elusive of birds.
I can see the mother and chick very clearly! Once again I applaud your victory in saving their shrub surrounded pond.
Gail, my heart goes out to you. Bertie is such a sweet boy.
So pleased to see the photos of the moorhen Mama and chicks, and relieved they haven't succumbed to the ravages of the billionaire's tidy up.
Would that nifty little Pika be good enough for the Old Farmer's lady friend? Where would she keep all her clothes...and where's the bathroom?
Inca and I are keeping everything crossed that Bertie will be enthralling us is with his many stories for a long time to come.
Oh Bertie! Like Angus, I remember when you showed up,"as a bundle of constant movement." You've provided so much joy to us. Sending all possible good wishes.
-Lisa, Otto and Osa
The lighting in that first photo is so beautiful! One can almost smell the moisture in the air. I fell down a Pica rabbit hold at one point during lockdown when all I could think about was getting out of the house!
Seconding what rottrover said.
Dear Gail,
I am terrified of dogs and don't even know Bertie, but you have been one of the stalwarts here who make my morning worthwhile. Sending hugs.
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