Today the light was dull; the weather warm and dry.
This afternoon we visited Ferndene Farm shop to buy pork for tonight’s dinner.
I joined a young lady happily photographing chickens on her phone. We had noticed that she had chosen a good vantage point. It was a matter of seconds before I discovered that she had no speech and couldn’t understand me. Her carer approached and told me what I had already gathered and that she loved chickens. I said that perhaps she wouldn’t mind me continuing. That was the case and we became silent companions for a while.
I then sought out the resident pigs in order to reassure myself that we would not be eating them.
We continued on through the forest, taking an unnamed lane alongside which refuse had been dumped. At least it had been bagged up;
as had these drink cans on Braggers Lane.
If you are going to dump old fridges on the verges of Fish Street, I suppose you wouldn’t bother to wrap them.
Further along Fish Street we encountered a pair of inquisitive goats, the Billy of which sported a splendid beard.
This evening, when the sun emerged, Jackie went into the garden to plant some bulbs. Nugget kept getting under her feet, so she gave up and photographed a few garden scenes, including
this area she had planted yesterday;
honesty, rudbeckia, and Japanese anemones;
the lawn, eucalyptus, and hanging baskets;
the decking and its planting;
Florence sculpture, petunias, and nicotiana.
Oh, and “Where’s Nugget?” (13).
Later this evening we dined on Jackie’s spicily piquant pork paprika and toothsome mushroom rice with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank Hardy’s Chapter and Verse Shiraz 2018.