Camouflage

Eventually today was the day to return to my set of three landscapes that were begun last September, interrupted for lots of irises and sat around patiently waiting for me. I've been trying to face up to the challenge of continuing something that was already in my head without the sketchbook where I had recorded my ideas (which unfortunately I have left at home in my studio.) Things did not go well at first.

Taking a drink (and a chocolate eclair) outside, I suddenly found myself taking photos of creatures keen to camouflage themselves.

This chap is small - head and body about 8cms long. Being rather dull and plain light brown colours you'd think we couldn't miss him in the lush green grass, but in fact every time we looked away it was quite difficult to spot him.

At first glance I wouldn't have said the plum tree offered much cover to a camouflaged creature unless it was green but then suddenly two things appeared which were surprisingly different from my idea of a plum tree and yet kept losing themselves as soon as I took my eyes off them.

The swallowtail flew off too fast for me to capture his open wings but eventually the goldfinch (kept typing goldfish by mistake!) moved out into the open and I was rather pleased to get a clear shot of him in all his finery.

The same but different

It's been a long time ...

... since I posted any poetry here.

This one is new and is, in particular, for M and for S, A, J & P, A & N, who were here with us last year but alas, not this.



Sometimes there are sparrows
chattering in groups, sometimes
woodpigeons coo to their mates,
never too far away from company.
Swallows, or swifts, I’m never sure,
swoop about one after the other
and we have redstarts here,
singing from the trees
severally and together.

And then there is the lark,
flying solo, no need for crowds.
This wide French sky is filled
with his solitary song.
Plunging to earth to begin anew
such melodies that seem to have no repetition,
touching my heart like no other bird.

There is something magic here
encapsulated in this small bird
of midsummer. 
Above the bustle on the ground
his hymn to freedom
is the anthem of this place
where weary spirits are renewed,
hopes revived,
and we are regenerated.

There are not many shepherds off the coast of northern France ...

... so I had no worries about this lovely red sky at about 5.30 UK time today.  We had already finished our breakfast and I hadn't got to sleep until about midnight so, as the modern saying goes, do the math.  And yet here I am fourteen hours later still capable of conscious thought.  Spending five months here last year has changed the place forever for me.  As soon as we found ourselves sitting with 'un demi' talking with P in the cafe, I felt as if I hadn't been away.  And this evening, as M was feeding Charlie, I thought, "should I water the vegetables now?"  Of course there are no vegetables here this year and as we are only able to stay for four weeks there aren't going to be.  But even the unpacked boxes, furniture still covered with polythene, to say nothing of the nine and a half months intervening, didn't stop the feeling of continuance.

We have been so fortunate today.  Fingers crossed and perhaps tomorrow I will be eating my words,  but we have hot and cold water and no leaks.  In case this doesn't sound anything very much, I should tell you that M reported that this is the first time this has happened on his return after the winter in the fourteen years he has owned the house.  It's fair enough: last September he stuffed old cushions and duvets and loft insulation in bin bags round every pipe he could find, even those which are empty over the winter.  We haven't checked the cottage yet, but in the house we use all is well. Not only do we have hot and cold running water and electricity, we have phone and, obviously, internet.  No delays this year.  I can connect with the world and report that tonight I feel lucky.

Three posts at once

One advantage of having delayed our trip to France is that we are here for the oriental poppies.  There's really nothing like them.

You can see the rest of the set of poppy photos here.

Look at the wings on those pigs!

Pigs might fly, Jane might get her vegetable plot all tidy and planted at once. Here's the proof.

I haven't been able to grow plants myself this year, not having a greenhouse at the moment, but was able to buy my vegetable plants from the excellent Pound Farm farm shop and plant centre.  They have top quality vegetable plants in good varieties at very reasonable prices and thoroughly recommended to anyone in the vicinity.  Naturally, the locals appreciate the plants as well and have already started munching on them ....

....though Jane's Patent Slug And Snail Detterrants are doing something to keep them at bay. Copper pipe surrounding tasty plants, eggshells on surface around and coffee grounds on surface immediately around the plants. Out of view, a beer-laden trap. It doesn't stop everything but it certainly slows the attacks and I hope to have the majority of plants surviving.  It's not perfect, but the demolished plant on the right hadn't had the coffee grounds and I do think they protect against the very small earth-dwelling slugs to some extent.  Last year in France the slugs were getting the first leaves of the newly-sprouted runner beans until I sprinkled on the coffee grounds and after that all grew happily un-munched.

Now I have the vegetable garden planted up there is nothing stopping us going to France.  I am, of course, still behind with my work but it will be easier to catch up with it in one go nearer to the exhibition.

Logs on blogs

This post does what it says on the tin.  By popular request (you know who you are!)

For those requiring a little more information - at least one winter's supply of logs provided by M, bringing a fallen branch or two home each evening from his walk with Charlie, now finishing their drying-out under cover during the summer.