fog and rolling horses

 I must have been writing these blogs for a year now because I seem to remember putting up a picture of the hellebores before. But they are so pretty floating in the water as you hardly see their little faces on the plant itself. Each year they increase in number but sad and inevitable is the fact that the pink ones increase and the startling yellow and delicate spotted white ones do not. Pink is the dominant gene.

 Also pink and smelling amazing is the Daphne odora which is right by the gate so that when you walk into the garden now you do not notice the headless mouse on the path because you are so intoxicated by the heady perfume of the daphne. Things are growing at an amazing rate. The air is filled with the scent of petrol as opposed to the sickening smell of the central heating oil running out as people take to their lawn mowers to clip and trim that grass into shape. This means the grass in the horse's field is growing too so no more hay.

The lime green of the euphorbias really brighten the garden

and the beautiful red of the new leaves on the rose bushes

Harry

 We've had a bit of all weather this week. Sun, rain. FOG! It's rugs on, rugs off, rugs on for those horses as it can't make up it's mind if its Summer, Spring or Winter again.
 Took the dogs for a walk in the horses field today and I realise what a policeman Beezle is. He doesn't like anything out of the ordinary. Harry (without the rug) decided what he really wanted was a nice roll in the dirt and Beezle couldn't stand it. What was a horse doing on the ground? They should be standing or trotting. He raced over to Harry barking like mad  Bark bark - which made Harry get up, flatten his ears and threaten Beezle with a hind hoof. You'd think he would have learnt by now.
About ten years ago he was kicked in the head by a horse because he chased it. He still has the scar and a centimetre higher he would have been dead. Bark bark.
And this morning when I was walking round the home field with them (listening to an I pod which my lovely girls had given me for Christmas with all the tunes they knew I liked on} I suddenly unexpectedly broke into a dance. Beezle was really cross at that. Bark Bark. Please stop making a fool of yourself Mum he was ordering. (I took no notice - Pixie just looked on bemused but then she's still on heat and dreaming of that wolfhound James from Crufts.}

Anyway back in the horse's field one of last year's swans veered off the river and found the one remaining tributary into the field. Pixie thought it would be funny to chase it till it reared up and hissed angrily at her. Beezle just watched smugly from the sidelines. As he and Heraclitus would say "One cannot step twice in the same river."

Fog


The fog comes
on little cat feet.

It sits looking
over harbour and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.

Carl Sandburg