WILDFLOWERS ON THE THE LOWER FIELD
This has been an unusually busy and demanding week although I don't have much to show for it. There are times when effort stays invisible and small tasks demand the greatest endeavour. You will know the feeling. On the picture front you will have to be satisfied with the flora and fauna that occupy much of our lives.
First and foremost, I should report a wonderfully wet weekend. Some two inches of rain relieved a desperately dry spell, sufficient to perk up the wild flowers and the straggle of fava beans in the park if not to revive the Algibre, which lies still stark and stony in the sun.
As much as the rain refreshed the garden, it did us no favours on our walks. And lots of long walks on skiddy paths we took, largely because Jack needed to run free in order to expend his pent-up energy. We let him off the leash as soon as we are out of the gate and on the path. In his hurry to be off, he tends to go through or over any creatures in his way, prompting a chorus of protesting squeals.
Jack's a quick learner. Although he roves widely in the veld, he comes back when (or not long after) he's called. He spends most of the day in his enclosure, although not of his own choosing. We're still working on integrating him with the rest of the pack. Happy as they are to share their walks with Jack, they're not yet ready to share the house with him. And he's still learning that cats are not on the menu. We're taking one day at a time.
While we're on the subject of the beasts, consider for a moment this photo of Dearheart, seated in deepest feline contemplation. What it doesn't make clear is that she is sitting purposefully at the foot of the front-garden bird-feeder. Her unusual stance caught my attention and prompted me to peer through the bars to see what had aroused her interest.
RAT-ARSED?
It didn't take long although I had to look carefully to be sure. Peering down at kitty from the bird-feeder was ratty, evidently wondering about his next move. More to the point, ratty has evidently decided to breakfast in the front garden now that we had rat-proofed the back-garden bird-feeder. I might add that he made a clean get-away. None of our cats have yet earned their ratter badges.
BORAGE
The garden remains knee-deep in winter growth. It's the season when borage occupies whatever spaces it can find, starting out as an innocuous shoot and then exploding like a slow-motion bomb to overshadow all around it. The garden hums with the activity of the bees that love it. In a few weeks, when summer arrives, the borage will die off and the annual vegetation cull will begin. The immediate job is to clear the overgrown paths in the park. I've bought new harnesses for our twin strimmers.
Meanwhile, the pool lies idle. We've yet to sort out the problems with the pump that is straining to circulate water. A plumber spent an hour checking it out one evening. After speaking at some length to two of his mates on the phone, he concluded that issue lies with the filtration sand but he didn't have time to resolve it. The problem awaits Slavic's arrival on Saturday.
More bothersome has been the business of obtaining official documents we need from South Africa. Last week I made the required cash transfer (via Transferwise) to the account in Pretoria, carefully following the embassy's instructions. A day or two later I learned that the amount would be insufficient because of the deduction of bank charges in South Africa.
PHLOMIS AND LAVENDER
On Monday we couriered the documents to Barbara's brother, Robbie, with a plea to deliver them in person and pay the difference. As Robbie was doing so, Transferwise emailed me to say the fees had been returned to them because of a cock up on the far side. It was hair-pulling-out time! The whole thing has now been dumped in Robbie's lap. How people manage who cannot call upon local help it's impossible to know.
INDEPENDENCE DAY
As for the endless contortions of Brexit, it's like the slow drip drip of Chinese water torture on our heads. It's ridiculous that a drama that's being played out at such a distance should have such an impact. But the issues burn soul-deep. We curse the Brexiteers and cheer the remainers as though they were on stage. Which, in a way, given the immediacy of the media, they are.
Turning to domestic trivia - on the study front, we have been tripping over my handy tripod keyboard support which doesn't store easily. And Jones has drawn my attention to the awkward positioning of the adjacent table with mail trays that blocks access to the patio doors. The table and trays have long provided a useful dumping ground for "later attention" material. But aware of the importance of spousal contentment, I've been doing a lot of sorting and filing prior to rearranging matters.
For her part, Jones, a former librarian, likes to be surrounded by lots of paper. Books come with a certain comfort value, like fluffy jerseys and cuddly toys. The cyber world holds few attractions for her. She is content to dabble on the email and Whatsapp fringes while devoting her efforts to important things like the garden. Fair enough! It's whatever makes you happy. And the garden is a joy, albeit a demanding one.
Thursday lunchtime: Guess who's back. Hmmm!
VIEW, VILLAGE AND VALLEY
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