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Sunday, 1 December 2013

Rubber gloves and Pixie fluff

Whilst out on our walk in the horses' field the other day Beezle has discovered a new game. Finding an old black rubber glove in the grass(used for the ubiquitous poo picking) - sorry - probably too much information - he picked it up, shook it violently and raced off with it - all the while shaking it and hitting it on the ground with great glee and speed. Of course Pixie wanted to join in too and grabbed one of the rubber "feathers" from Beezle's black 'hen' which stretched to an incredible length before she let it go and it pinged back in Beezle's face. I think he was a bit surprised but it hasn't stopped him doing it again and again. Perhaps I'll just be able to stand at the gate soon, drop the glove on the ground and let him wear himself out without having to traipse round the field myself.

Beezle quite tired after the game with the rubber glove.

As I am writing this those naughty ducks are in here again - this time checking out the dog food bowl that seems to have skated across the floor and ended up near the French windows.

 All the animals have been helping the man who helped me out by painting the kitchen last week. He didn't realise Pixie has a white tip to her tail - {her magic wand we used to call it when she was a puppy) and was concerned that she'd got paint on her tail. I told him it was a good idea if she had but I didn't think her paintwork would be very neat.

Pixie moping because I told her I didn't think her brushwork would be up to standard.
 It's lovely having a newly painted kitchen but we were without it for over a week and you realise that the kitchen is the heart of the home and without it we felt - well - heart less. But as Beezle and Montaigne would say - "What do I know?"
We weren't allowed to cook so had a lot of takeaways and once treated ourselves to a meal out. The rest of the house was covered in jars and jams and plates and saucepans and all the things we had taken out of the kitchen to leave a nice working space. When we moved the cupboard I found so much Pixie fluff that this time I am convinced I can make at least two more of her.

The bare rooted roses have arrived! I spent all yesterday potting up 40 of them with another delivery due soon. I am trying out this rather gorgeous one called Commandant Beurepaire which looks rather heavenly. Now I'm going to do a striped rose trial I think - to see which is the most gorgeous. Of course I won't find out till next summer -  but I can always dream.


What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore -
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over -
like a syrupy sweet?
May be it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

Langston Hughes.

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