Nugget darted under my feet this morning as I swept the beech nuts from the Rose Garden paving and the gravel paths,
and around Jackie when she continued planting.
Sometimes he took a bird’s eye view of proceedings.
Here Jackie demonstrates that she has some thyme to plant;
and here converses with her little familiar. “Where’s Nugget?” (33).
Hoping to accustom him to a robin feeder for the winter she has installed one in the cryptomeria, bearing just small tokens. It seems to be working.
Bees, like this one homing in on bright red salvia
and this plundering a pink pelargonium;
as well as butterflies such as this Painted Lady, continue to bask in our sunshine on such a day.
This afternoon I watched a recording of the Rugby World Cup match between South Africa and Canada.
Later, we took a short trip into the forest where, at Holmsley, bracken has really browned;
some leaves take on an autumnal hue, while others remain green;
grasses bent to the breeze;
the stream spanned by the eponymous Passage is filling up and flowing briskly;
trees were silhouetted on the sky line;
and a gatepost sporting a boot without which a child had departed pleaded for a rescue dog which had left home.
This evening we dined on prime pork loin steaks roasted with tomatoes and mushrooms; plentiful mushroom stroganoff; firm peas, and tender runner beans. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Brouilly.