On Time, Joys, and minor Tribulations

I’ve asked it before, and it’s equally puzzling now but, just where does all the time go? I’m not talking physics or metaphysics, but rather that constant source of bemusement - to yours truly - that hours, days, months and years all pass so swiftly that I’m unable to find the time to even get started on any of the multiple tasks or projects I’ve been considering.

 

I deem myself very fortunate that I can still manage to appreciate, with an almost constant sense of wonder, that there is something rather than nothing; I still feel quite awestruck when I gaze at the panoply of stars in the night sky and contemplate the vast distances and time through which these illuminations occur. I am always amazed by the sheer variety of flora and fauna even within the constraints of our back garden.

 

It was wonderful to experience a few days of sunshine, and reasonable warmth, after the somewhat protracted spell of wintry weather; I even managed to do a little pottering about in the garden and extracted, with the aid of a PondVac, some of the aromatic mud deposit from the garden pond.

 

I also enjoyed sitting  and relaxing outdoors observing the avian activity. On one afternoon, having just watched a Red Kite gracefully riding the thermals above our garden, I noticed a few Redpolls visiting the Nyjer seed feeder – a first for our garden!

 

 

 

Last Thursday morning I attended the dermatology unit at Harrogate District Hospital for some minor surgery and, after several hold-ups en route, it was wonderful to get into the surgery on time. The whole procedure, preparation for and excision of a basal cell carcinoma from my chest (up towards the shoulder) and a biopsy sample taken from a lesion on my leg, took around forty-five minutes.

 

Unlike the time a carcinoma was excised from my back, when the dressing was kept in situ for several days and the stitches removed after 14 days, on this occasion I was told to remove the dressing after twenty-four hours and the ten external stitches to be removed after 10 days but, the one stitch on my lower limb is not be removed until 14 days have passed. I have to treat the wound two or three times a day with soft yellow paraffin which tends to adhere to my shirt or pyjama jacket. They also provided spare dressings for the small leg wound which is also protected by a tubular bandage from toes to knee.

 

I must admit that the chest/shoulder wound still feels somewhat tender and I’m having to be careful that I don’t stretch to reach anything with my left arm. Apart from that, I’m pretty well my usual frequently shattered self.

Rare day

 One of those rare sunshiny bright (albeit chilly) mornings drew me up the garden (lack of) path. Task one was to net out kilos of fallen leaves from the pond, and applying same to garden borders. That task completed, I set to refilling our sundry bird feeders to add a further gleam to my nascent halo!

 

Such was the sun’s effect on my morale that, once back in the house, I forgot to turn the fire on until the chill had begun to gnaw its way into my corporeal being. It wasn’t too long after that when the old familiar aches and pains began to make a negative impression on my sense of well-being. It wasn’t long before the aches in arms and feet induced feelings of nausea. Next thing, a light-headed giddiness hit in as an accompaniment to a sudden, simultaneous, onset of dyspepsia and flatulence.

 

Wrists strapped and tramadol ingested, I rested a while before swallowing lansoprazole and mebeverine in advance preparation for an early evening meal. Thankfully, the intensity of the muscular pains soon settled to a more manageable level and the nausea discharged itself from my psyche.  

 

As the indigestion settled down a little, I ventured into the kitchen and griddled a couple of oak-smoked salmon fillets, accompanied by a gently spiced stir-fry of red peppers, cherry tomatoes and mushrooms (marinated in a garlic, turmeric, tikka and soy sauce concoction) sprinkled with a few flakes of oak-smoked sea salt.

 

And that was my day … so far!

The Pond Refreshed

Just a little celebration of our freshly cleared and cleaned goldfish pond!

pond life

just had to video this - loved the way the tadpoles were swimming around
the basking common frog in our garden pond this morning

Now

Sometimes it's as if memories are more tangible than present reality. The memories I refer to, are those dating back to a time when socializing, travel, sensory overload could all be taken in my stride; the days when I could go to a concert, a gig, the theatre, cinema etc just on a whim, without first having to steel myself for the ordeal. I'm never sure whether clinging to these memories has any positive value as, they simply serve to throw into the spotlight my current more restricted existence. I suspect it's best to simply live in the present, maximise the opportunities afforded by spending time in the garden, dipping into a book as and when the necessary emotional stamina and concentration is available, listening to a CD, watching a DVD and, especially any time spent in the company of my beloved.

Today we went over to the garden centre at Otley, and I thoroughly enjoyed the journey, approx 15 - 20 mins either way, just about my ideal distance these days. A couple of garden vouchers, that we'd received for our wedding anniversary, went towards a pair of good quality shears, and although  tempted by many items, I only yielded to the temptation to buy a couple of alpine / perennial plants to refresh a rather outworn display in one of the stone planters. Inspired by the excursion, I got down to the necessary transplanting operation within a couple of minutes of arriving back home. Meanwhile ma belle set about a little more tidying up of one of the garden borders.

As we worked, a blackbird provided a beautifully mellifluous background melody; what more could one ask for! Yet there was more. My attention was constantly drawn to the pond, where the piscine inhabitants seemed to gleam in the newly clarified water, the underwater filter having been re-installed (by yours truly) a couple of days ago. Come to think of it, there's nothing more real than now! What's more, ignoring troublesome afflictions, I've never known a time of more contentment.

Spring Cleaning

I've spent a fair bit of time in the garden this week and have finally got around to vacuuming out some of the sludgy sediment from the pond. Initial efforts were somewhat thwarted by obstacles on the pond floor. Unfortunately, until the time is right to re-install the pump and underwater filter, the water lacks sufficient clarity to be able to see where such obstacles are situated.

As the pond vac restarted, following discharge of the previous cylinder load, I became puzzled as to why the suction wasn't working, as the motor was uttering its reassuring purr of strength. Having switched off the power, I duly removed the suction nozzle and sundry extension tubes but, all were clear. Next task was to disconnect the coiled suction hose from the cylinder where I observed a dark gelatinous mass at the top, almost as if a giant slug had taken up residence there. A vigorous shake of the hose revealed all, as a full grown frog, encased in mud, slowly unfolded itself. A few minutes later it took its first tentative hop back towards the pond.

I hadn't realized quite how strong the machines suction power was!

Today I donned arm length waterproof gloves and fished around to unearth some of these obstructive items, micromesh planters full of slimy aquatic compost but little sign of plant growth, planters full of oxygenating elodea and, old drainage pipes which serve as useful hidey holes for the ponds piscine inhabitants should predatory herons venture past the marginal reeds.

Obstacles removed I was able to use a freely sweeping action with the pond vacs nozzle, before restoring drainage pipe and elodea to their rightful place. 

In Everything Give Thanks

Although the day started rather muggy, despite a moderately forceful breeze, the atmosphere became fresher as the day progressed; a welcome opportunity to sit beside the pond surveying our modest estate. It’s one of those times when I’m rather overwhelmed by gratitude for these simple delights right on my own doorstep. The sudden sighting of a few baby frogs, emerging from the gardens southern border and, other more mature specimens whose camouflage prevented me from spotting them amongst the ponds vegetation.

 

First thing this morning, bearing in mind that my “first thing” is usually a couple of hours after my other half has gone off to work, I notice a manila envelope on the doormat from the DWP (Department of Work and Pensions) and, it’s with relief that I discover that the next medical assessment review, regarding my Incapacity Benefit, will be due on 8 July 2013. The actual date becomes something of an irrelevance as I will be in receipt of a State Pension from June next year! One side of me thinks it would be really great if I was able to present myself as fit for employment before that date even; at least that would mean I was well enough to pursue some of my former social pursuits. Fortunately, our financial needs are relatively modest; we don’t go in for an extravagant lifestyle even though the wine-cellar suggests otherwise!

 

This morning I ventured down to ‘Open Church’, for coffee and a chat, where the narthex was a real hive of activity as differing groups of toddlers and infants spontaneously and positively interacted. It’s always a treat to catch up with some of the regular, and not so regular, visitors to these weekday coffee mornings. On my return to the homestead, it was great to enjoy the aforementioned outdoor inactivity. I did manage to exert myself sufficiently to transplant a few of the overcrowded tomato plants from the greenhouse to a sheltered spot in the garden border.  [Actually, they were rather sickly specimens which I’d already put out freestanding in their pots, where the wind far too regularly took advantage of their precarious stance!]

Bring Me Sunshine

The sun shines, and all seems much better with the world; a bright day has such an amazing effect on one’s sense of well (or even not-so-well) being, it’s only a pity that it has little effect on the multitude of socio-political ills that afflict the majority of humankind.

Just looking out onto the garden gains new vibrancy; each year I’m amazed and encouraged as the first shoots thrust their way into daylight, preparing for spring. (see my poem First Rite on this theme)

Shuffle my way up to the garden pond, look in disgust at the floating debris, think about netting it off but, I’m all too aware that once I make that effort I’ll be too tempted to start on a more widespread cleaning. The piscine inhabitants wouldn’t be too happy about that, this early in the year, so it’s just as well my energy reserves are not exactly fighting for release.

For the moment, I make do with topping up the bird-feeders, pace about a little to give my leg muscles a little stretch, before returning to the house for a nice cuppa (or three) of Earl Grey.

It’s remarkable how much easier it is, on a bright day, to count ones blessings. At a time when I’d lost contact with many of my friends, as my ability to socialize declined, I was able to make contact with others in cyber space, and most importantly able to offer help and encouragement to some of these people.

As my love for my wife grows daily, and that’s starting from a remarkably high plateau, I am so fortunate to have that love reciprocated. Being able to pop down to Open Church, for a cup of Fairtrade coffee and a natter, still seems like a bit of a luxury and, I can only be grateful that I can comfortably manage the walk down there and not be overwhelmed by any background noise. It’s simple things like that, which I would have taken for granted a few years ago, that I have now learnt to appreciate; even the fact that I have a roof over my head, food in the larder and, water on tap provides cause for rejoicing.

Even on a dull, wet day, I am aware of the many blessings (though sometimes it takes a bit of coaxing to bring them to the fore) but, as the sun continues to shine my gratitude is somehow amplified.

If Only ... nature (sca)red in tooth and claw

The proud feline hunter scampers away like a real scaredy-cat; obviously the tables have been turned.

A few minutes earlier, I had been watching a perky grey squirrel foraging for food, in a tussock of grass, in close proximity to one of our pole mounted bird feeders. I'm always quite amused how charmingly these rodents pick up their food, scrupulously examining their paw held feast in some kind of quality control exercise, before the consuming moment. As the squirrel became aware of my presence, he firstly sidled away before darting off between the end of the shed and the greenhouse. At this stage, its exact location couldn't be determined from my vantage point but, a sudden yelp disclosed our neighbourhood ginger marmalade Persian, running for her life.

It's really strange that all the endeavours of our PIR sonic cat scarers, (supposedly) cat repellent plants, and strategically placed briars had failed to deter this particular member of the feline race, as we sought to protect the nesting birds, a little rodent so swiftly carried out the act of expulsion from the garden. A real David and Goliath parable this, as the rodent puts our feline neighbourhood predator to flight.

Next to the late lamented Sapphire, this particular moggy is one of the most endearing in our general vicinity; trouble is it's impossible to train them to know their boundaries! If only it were possible to teach them that our ponds piscine inhabitants, and the birds nest boxes were off limits, our pleasure would be complete.

P.S. I had also posted this on my Hirsute Antiquity blog where someone left the comment:

.. I don't know why but i hate squirrels.. :(

to this my hasty impromptu response reads as follows:

They can be darned destructive little critters, their scavenging exploits can certainly reek havoc. Although they're rodents, somehow with their long bushy tails they have a more cosy image than their thin tailed relatives. The grey squirrel, originally imported from North America, is now predominant and they swiftly decimated the indigenous red squirrel population.

In some ways I find them more welcome than other North American invasions such as our near neighbour, Menwith Hill spy and star wars station, ironically called RAF Menwith Hill although it's run in the utmost secrecy by the US of A. I'm always surprised to find that some American acquaintances who work there appear almost normally human. Just like the grey squirrels seem cute!

A Tale of Aquatics, Compost and Comestibles

After a not so unusual sluggish start to the day, incorporating bacon and eggs delivered to the bedside by ma belle Helen, I eventually entered the active world. Early afternoon, we ventured down to the local Brewer’s Fayre for dinner before heading off to the garden and water-garden centre.

Having purchased a container, described as a terrace pond, which we’ve located amongst the planted containers in the gravelled area of the garden, I set about transferring a couple of lilies from the garden pond which was becoming somewhat overcrowded. I appreciate that it’s not really the appropriate time for such a transplant, two flowers having just passed their best but, both plants have new shoots under way.

Aquatic tasks completed and adrenalin still surging, I sought out further garden tasks (admittedly there’s never really a shortage of gardening chores) whilst flesh as well as spirit both seemed willing. I’d thought for a while about re-siting the compost bin and, after a brief struggle (ably assisted by my beloved) managed to remove it from its entire contents, the ripest compost to be dispersed around various areas of the garden. Having re-sited the bin, the residue of its content was duly returned along with an adequacy of worms.

Once I’d demolished a nourishing supply of sandwiches, for my tea, a little rest time was called for but, by 9.00pm I felt inspired to set about preparations for Sunday dinner. The resultant dish is a rather special chicken curry, utilizing my own individual selection of spices; of course I’m trusting that the finger lickings from the griddle pan, in which the bulk of the meal was prepared, are a true and honest reflection of this impending delight!

PTSD - Cause Unknown

Several years ago, whilst looking out of the living-room window, Beth (my eldest step-daughter) and myself were somewhat startled to see a heron launch off from the garden pond. For the following two or three weeks, no matter what hour I visited the pond, there were no sightings of any fish in the pond; come to think of it some frogs, which had been present the previous couple of days, were no longer in evidence. It was with a great sense of relief, and joy, that I observed the fish once again after the aforementioned interval.

So much for the fabled short memory span of goldfish; they’d managed to stay in hiding until such time as they assumed the coast was clear. Could they have been in a depressive state for all this time, a kind of post-traumatic stress disorder?

What has brought this memory to the fore is the lack of piscine sightings for the past couple of days. With the recent warmer weather, and the clarity of the water, sightings had been impossible to avoid; yesterday morning – zilch! At their usual feed time, I scattered a few floating foodsticks but, by the end of the afternoon, nothing had been touched so I netted the food out again. I caught a glimpse of one of the small fish, half hidden in the aquatic compost and pea gravel in one of the water-lily containers then, as soon as I knelt down beside the pond, it darted away. Later in the day, I caught a glimpse of one of the medium sized goldfish hiding beside one of the drainage pipes at the bottom of the pond.

Whatever has happened, I know that there are at least two fish there but, today yielded no further sightings, even of these two! One possibility is that one of the neighbourhood moggies had made a deliberate lunge for one of the piscine inhabitants; on several occasions these cats have been seen in the vicinity of the pond and, one of them, Peanuts, had recently devised a way of tilting an overhanging decoration to enable him to get a drink … strange that this feline ability to use/devise tools seems rarely, if ever, to have been recorded. This overhanging platform has now been removed!

It hardly seems likely, with present weather conditions (the lack of overly swollen rivers etc – which seems to deter them from those particular hunting grounds), that we have had a further visitor from the heronry. I live in hope that, trauma forgotten by the piscine inhabitants, I will once again be able to observe, and feed, the full glorious company. If their numbers are diminished, from whatever cause, re-stocking may be in order.

If anyone out there is aware of any research papers into “post-traumatic stress disorder” in goldfish, it would be interesting to find where they can be viewed online.

Idling Along

The mouse finger’s growing tired, slip sliding through various websites, occasionally allowing me to peruse the content of the page it stumbles upon. An adventure without purpose, an aimless search through all the wonders the web has to offer but, I’m still awaiting the return of the necessary powers of concentration to give my searching some kind of focus. If only this aimlessness was my purpose, I would now be the victor; sadly there seem to be a paucity of rewards on offer for such unwitting purposelessness!

The rewards are much greater when I idle my time away sat on the bench beside the garden pond, observing the frenetic activity of sundry insects amongst the pebbles, hovering over the pond and rockery and, generally engaging in the necessary tasks for their survival. The clarity of the pond water is quite remarkable, a reward for the earlier application of barley straw extract and Sludge Buster. Despite the timidity of the ponds piscine inhabitants, they still eagerly surface on my first visit of the day in anticipation of their feed yet, at other times, they dart for cover at the merest hint of a shadow cast upon the water.

All too frequently, I become distracted by the thought of necessary gardening tasks and, despite the exercise of admirable restraint, yield to their beckoning. Although I enjoy pottering about, and sometimes getting my hands dirty, it’s still far too easy to overdo it. At times, I think it would be much better if exhaustion displayed itself as a preventative, rather than in its excruciatingly numbing delayed post-exertional manifestation.

All that being said, I still find it easy to enjoy life, although any socializing activity is strictly rationed; I love sharing my life with Helen, imbibing the odd glass of fermented grape juice and, consuming the fruits of my cookery experiments. Life would be so much harder without such a wonderful encouraging partner, certainly much duller.

For all that life has given me I give thanks, and rejoice in this day the Lord has made.

Aftermath

Every action seems to have its cost, albeit far from predictable. Recent weekends away proved most beneficial in their demonstration that, after several years when such a venture was beyond even the least consideration, I really was improving in the health stakes.

Although something like two-thirds of my time away was spent resting, more from necessity than choice, on each occasion the return home found me running on adrenalin, as I set to necessary tasks in house and garden. Recent bright days drew me into the garden once more, just a bit of light pottering about, but it didn’t take long to realize that my “pacing” had gone somewhat awry!

There’s something gnawingly frustrating about that sensation, when the usual aches and pains, merge into an all encompassing blanket of exhaustion; a kind of leaden hollowness, underpinned by spasmodically searing twinges, somehow blanks out the least residual remnant of ones power of concentration.

Suddenly, in the midst of typing this reason for the paucity of recent blog postings, I’m transfixed by the liquid alto trilling of a blackbird on the garden shed; that simple call eradicates any risk of drifting into self-pity. Quite frequently I feel that there is no need to venture any further than the boundaries of our garden. Sitting on the bench beside the pond, watching the goldfish devour the foodsticks, whilst on the neighbouring rockery the peacock butterflies, and honey bees, are drawn to the heathers, a sense of contentment floods my being. Contentedly fatigued, that phrase just about captures the present state of play.

What I was going to say, before this gentle interruption, was that recent days have found me unable to concentrate sufficiently to check my e-mail boxes and, my normally regular swift surfing of news websites has been honoured more in the breach than by its observance. A blank ‘Word’ page proves far too daunting, the prospect of painting it in words too challenging a task, but I will be back!

In life and love and friendship, I feel truly blessed.

**************************

This post also appears on 'Mal's Murmurings' and 'Hirsute Antiquity'

It Might As Well Be Spring

Last night the stars were so brightly sharp, it almost felt like one was viewing every marker of the constellations, rather than the odd solitary frontiersman. Of course, after such nocturnal clarity, a sharp frost swathed the ground by morning. By mid-day though, I was sat out on the bench beside the garden pond in shirt-sleeves; can this really be the north of England at the beginning of February.

After yesterday’s endeavours, relaxation was of the essence and, after a short time, I was able to ignore 90% of my muscular and joint aches and pains; these were of course my reward for Friday’s efforts. Meantime, my beloved had donned her gardening gear and, womanfully tackled some necessary tidying up. For me, gardening became a delightful spectator sport! Mind you, I enjoy watching ma belle whether relaxing or endeavouring; I’m just so proud to be her other half.

Several ladybirds clambered through the undergrowth and, a cirrus cloud of midges’ hyperactivated above the pond. Bliss was it in that day…, as I basked in the gently warming sunglow. The highlight of my inactivity was a formation flight of honking geese overhead; an open umbrella headed the flight, with two small inverted V’s immediately below its shelter. A larger V formation followed, with a straight line completing the arrow-like direction marker. As they moved away, I revelled in the gentle oscillation of their synchronized flapping wings as they soared across the clear blue sky.

I rejoice, and am glad, in this day the Lord has made!

Routine Services

Scrape hard, hammer light; an endless repetition to perform. Fill up another bowl of boiling water and place it on the middle shelf, enable rapid thaw. And then the scrape and tap once more; remove and empty the floor based tray, then shut the door once more. My prophecy, of the time the task would take, is swiftly falsified. The predicted hour multiplies.

I suppose its part of the price to pay for a legacy of neglect. Defrosting of the freezer should be performed bi-annually and not biennially as turns out to be the case. Anyway, this ritual (more honoured in the breach than its observance) was carried out by yours truly last evening. And this small task has taken its toll; thirteen hours after retiring to the duvet realm I re-emerged, unrefreshed, from the spasmodic grip of Morpheus. Vivid dreams had found me active in the awakened world; the transformation into reality was far more sluggish and, activity was the last thing my body desired.

Reluctantly, I ventured up to the garden pond for a ritual rinsing of the filters, after which I refrained from restarting the pump but, perhaps I should have simply reduced the flow rate. Anyway, it’s good to be settled back in the house now, in familiar restful mode, intermittently considering whether the pump switch off time is appropriate. Amazing, just how many decisions life requires us to make, even from a sedentary pose!

The time is out of joint

The thermometer nods and bobs its way around this plant contained area; the curiosity of the pond’s piscine inhabitants is much in evidence. I can imagine the conversation, “I told you it was milder than last year, just look”.

“Wow”, says Junior, “12 centigrade. You mean it’s going to get cooler?”

The elders nod knowingly, “By gum, the bairns got a lot to learn yet! Remember that sheet of stiff water last winter?”

They remembered it all too well! They seem to be taking it in turns, to give a nudge to their new found object of contemplation.

Perhaps they remember that last year, by this time, the human delivered component of their diet had switched to wheatgerm. For the present, they continue to devour the remnants of their summer feed, before they switch to the pure vegetarian option.

So, once more it’s time for me to rinse the filters, as the pump still has a little more work to do this season. Today, the rinsing procedure seems a little more arduous a task; after yesterdays bright and alert start to the day, the flesh refused to conform with my spirits desire this morning, as I sluggishly emerged (in more traditional fashion) from the duvet realm.

As I sat beside the pond, a robin eyed me inquisitively whilst a thrush foraged through the nearby undergrowth. Even a couple of our summer visitor butterflies were in evidence today; somehow the times are out of joint but, I embrace it as a joy rather than (the Prince of Denmark’s) “wretched spite”.

Dragonflies - Rossett Nature Reserve

Wing Speed

Resting Red

Taking Stock

My previous postings today have represented both passive and active modes of contemplation, on Hirsute Antiquity (my blog on My Space) and Mal’s Murmurings respectively.

In some ways I’m pleasantly surprised by these contemplative endeavours, as the past 36 hours have found me restless and frustrated, in a way that could seem close to depression, except it wasn’t marred by any real degree of discontent. Discomfort would be more the key, the sheer heaviness of fatigue with weary limbs, joints and, a slightly out of kilter sense of balance. But, even in this state, I still could find the energy to indulge in important acts of sharing and giving with my beloved. To roll and rejoice in each others arms, to sing with our hearts the joy of being one, and at one, with the whole of creation.

The energy levels, both physically and emotionally, leave much to be desired yet I know, and know of, many others who would consider the resources of stamina I possess their Eldorado. I’ve even managed to rinse out the filters from, and add treatments to, the pond’s filtration unit this afternoon and, hopefully without tempting providence, anticipate an evening walk.

As I approached the pond, it seemed as if each piscine resident had heard the lunch bell sound as they rushed to greet me. It seemed a shame to disappoint them but, they’d already had two feeds today and, there seems to be a reasonably abundant native supply of bloodworms and midge larvae in there.

Suddenly, it seems as if I’m counting my blessings once again! I am and I do – it’s always good to take stock!

***************

PS 9.50PM : This evening, I retraced the zig-zag route reported on in ‘A Little Diversion’ and, I’m quite extremely happy to report no ill effects on this occasion, apart from a very transitory spasm in the small of my back. This time I walked the route hand-in-hand with my beloved and, of course, that must have made all the difference!

Catching the drift

Having spent much of the day drifting in and out of cyberspace, messaging wonderful friends on ‘MySpace’, posting a NEW poem (inspired by a beautiful friend) on ‘Mal’s Factory’ and, visiting the Help with ME Forum, the only real exercise of the day was provided by sauntering up to the garden pond to feed the fish.

Once my beloved returned from work, we strolled down to the local Brewer’s Fayre for a little early evening meal. The salmon risotto, topped with an apple and sultana curry sauce, was the choice of both Helen and myself; it’s amazing the lengths some people will go to in order to avoid washing up duties. I suppose it could be viewed as a rightful extension of our No More Buts Day celebrations. The saunter back home provided the day’s extra bit of exercise.

And there’s a real bonus, another dish of my own unique Eurasian style chicken casserole remains for our indulgence tomorrow evening. The first dish was much appreciated on Sunday and, I have no doubts that a couple of standing days will have only served to enhance the flavour, if that’s at all possible!

Of course all the opinions expressed here are simply an expression of my own brand of humility!

No Longer Wild but not quite Cultivated!

A generally quiet ( though clammy) day with little exertion, either physically or mentally required. If there had been any demands, of an exertion requiring nature, I doubt whether I could, or would have responded!

Despite the slow rate of progress on the pond's green-water clearing, it's inhabitants are thriving; from bloodworm (a wonderful food source for) seven goldfish ... Tag, Babe, Blaze, Blondie and the triplets ... and the many itinerant frogs, the reeds and marginal plants, and an abundance of assorted insects.

The nest box echoes to the twittering of some young bluetits, drawing the attention of the neighbourhood cats to their presence but, it's only a limited amount of interference (in terms of protective measures) that we can rightly offer.

This evening I proudly invented a new salmon and rice dish, for the sustenance of ma belle amoureuse et moi ... not for the wildlife (Well, in another sense, I think my wildlife days have passed!). A nicely chilled bottle of 'Chateau du Carpia', Bordeaux 2003, calls out for my attention so, I must bid the blog farewell for the present!