Staying Cool

Finally we have a dull, grey day, but it is still warm enough to wander around without a coat. I used to think May was a good month to visit Britain, but  anyone holidaying here this summer has been lucky beyond words.
Some days we've stayed indoors until the evening when things cooled down. The back of our house  - and the garden - face south, and so we get the sun all day long. That's great in the winter, when it helps warm the house, but this summer I've been following the French habit of closing the curtains and keeping the sun out on that side of the house. There's little air-cooling equipment around because we usually don't need it. John Lewis is always a nice department store to step into whatever the time of year, as they keep the air cool and fresh, but some of the older buildings can be unpleasant.

In May everything is new green and growing like mad and the weather is often sunny and gentle - or perhaps it just seems that way after the horrors of winter. Here in late August the cornfields are ready, some have already been cut, and the hedgerows are full of berries. It looks spectacular.

There is nothing quite so dispiriting as the sight of a cornfield laid flat by wind and rain, but this year the farmers must be laughing as every singe stalk stands tall and proud. In Somerset, government marksmen on behalf of farmers, are busy culling badgers because they claim they transmit TB to cattle. Given that other creatures - rabbits, deer, foxes, rats, mice and the like - all share the fields with cows, I don't know how they can be so sure badgers are the villains. Farmers in this locality shoot crows, which is sad because they're intelligent birds. We have a family of four who visit our garden, and we've watched the parents raise their brood each year. They're always together, the four of them, once the infants can fly. They seem such a happy group, much more so than the blackbirds, where the chicks harass the parents endlessly. The parent birds look quite hen-pecked by the time the fledglings can fend for themselves.

A rainy day

Monkshood

It's raining hard and blowing a gale outside, so I've postponed my intention to walk up the hill and bank the latest book sales cheque received last week. Our "tame" blackbird has been on the fence, singing, twice already this morning. Evidently dh put out some sultanas for him first thing, and as I sat down at my computer I heard the bird again. I now know exactly what Dunnett meant when she wrote the phrase about a blackbird's cherried sentence. So I laid out more sultanas on top of the BBQ, and down he flew, looking very wet and downcast, and gobbled them up. Two feet seems to be his limit of tolerance for my presence. Of course, it could be his brother. They're very hard to tell apart. I'm hoping blackbird Dad reappears. He brought the brood to feed early in the spring, but they got so vicious they chased him away. Ungrateful kids! I'll know it's him, because while the youngsters have very sharp tips to their beaks, his was a tad worn and he had a couple of white feathers in his wings.

So, it's a perfect day for writing. I offered to help dh tidy his study, and if you knew what an effort that is likely to be, you'd applaud me! He, obviously not knowing when he is on to a good thing, shook his head and pulled a face. 'No, not today.'

So that leaves me back with a perfect day for writing. Unless I make a list for what I'm going to pack in my suitcase next month. But I can't think of sunny Australia when the weather is so miserable here. It is slowly dawning on me that I could be accused of procrastination here...No. Decision made. I'm off to do some writing. Honest.