Just Like That...

To welcome me home yesterday, Pushkin, aka Senior Cat, took me on an extended tour of the garden.
She's quite an outdoor girl, is Pushy, and if the weather is at all conciliatory, prefers to be out in her domain, so she was the ideal guide.  She is probably the only person who knows it better than I do.

We set out eagerly. I like March. It's a great month. Things are moving and promise lingers in the air like evening sunlight, yet all that burgeoning ebullience is still manageable. March is the last moment when you still feel in control. 

I had quite a shock.

Admittedly, 'There's not a moment to lose' is the order of the day around here, but even so, the garden has pulled a fast one in my absence.

I was expecting to see these pretty things. They politely hold back when all the other daffodils are thrusting themselves forward to be the first and foremost of spring. Come what may, they obey the dictum of their breeding, and flower appropriately:

Daffodils - variety Paddy's Day. Planted for my gorgeous boy who's birthday was last week.

Naturally, I was also expecting to see these, as they are one of the first every year, their pretty heads rising high above their delightfully spotted leaves.

Pulmonaria that I've always known as Mary and Joseph for the pink and blue flowers together. Some are already fading.

 Eagerly I was anticipating these:

Primroses - one of the joys of spring

And there was always a distinct chance that I might find some of these:  

These fancy daffs are some of the last to flower

 not to mention this little beauty:

My gorgeous young prunus Shirotae always flowers in late March. I am still waiting for it to take on the more traditional umbrella shape! Perhaps this year it will start...

But I didn't really expect to see these, which shouldn't be here until next month:

Narcissus Winston Churchill - very heavily scented. They also spread beautifully

 

 

And I distinctly remember a time when these were a feature of May. In fact, I'll be honest - these were May. Like a kind of wallpaper behind everything else.

Wild garlic. You have to learn not to fight it. I'm still learning

 And exactly what is going on here, for heaven's sake?

These tulips aren't just in flower - they have FINISHED flowering!

Pushy, I have to say, although not surprised at such forwardness, was not entirely approving of everything she had to show me, as witnessed by her expression in the vegetable garden.

These are hardly the delicate stems, pink and 'palely loitering' that I would expect in March! As you can see, Pushy entirely agrees with me. She is old enough to remember a time when things did what you expected them to do.

(They are however as delicious as they look. What could be nicer for breakfast than stewed rhubarb and yogurt?)

But her final revelation took the biscuit.
What, may I ask, is this all about?

Bluebells in March?

 

However, I was very happy to find that the sharks lurking in my little pond haven't managed to gobble up all the tadpoles yet. 

Tadpole heaven

Can you see them?

Look closely. There are millions of tadpoles squiggling about in this picture, but the light on the surface of the water makes it hard to pick them out.

Mind you, the sharks are still circling lazily.

And hiding under the kingcups.

The only thing I saw flitting about was this unidentified insect. I didn't actually see Tommy Cooper's ghost drifting over the pond or above the shrubbery, but I had the distinct feeling he had been in the garden while I was away. Do you remember how he used to jig his hands and say 'Just like that...'? I wish he'd come back and do a bit more jigging. Maybe this time he could jig away a few things. Like the weeds. Because they're as ebullient as the flowers. So much for control!

The Forgiveness of Dogs

Dear Reader - I have missed you!

I am sorry to say that I've been ill, and am still not 'a wellie' as we say in this house!
Husband's flu has been virulent, brutal and resilient. It has not - so far - responded in any meaningful way to the vast quantity and array of drugs I have been throwing hand over fist at it. It has, moreover, morphed into flu + nasty cough, which is just typical. I'm starting to sound as if I've been on 60-a-day since birth.

In the midst of my flu, and with deep reservations, I got on a plane and went to England for 5 days.

Not a good idea, I hear you cry. And how right you are!

I didn't see much of lovely Suffolk. My kind brother took this for me, as I was missing out on all the pretty blossom bedecking the picturesque cottages. Thank you, kind brother

I did ask advice of several people - including a pharmacist - who all urged me to go, assuring me that the worst was probably over, especially the contagious bit.. (I had, after all, spent many days in bed.)

Anyway, enough of that. Suffice it to say that I am feeling rather sorry for myself, and poor husband, who's  had the dread bug for a whole ten days longer than me, is still not a wellie either.

I didn't see much of lovely Suffolk, but I did see some of my nearest and dearest, which was wonderful.
I just hope I haven't passed anything nasty on to them.
Including my brother who sweetly drove all the way from Cheshire for my visit - that self-same hero of the hour who heretofore did battle with the inner workings of my blog, slaying the dragon lurking midst my feedburner in fearless but lengthy single combat. (Unarmed.)

Another pretty Suffolk cottage.  Thank you again, dear brother

Travelling makes you feel even worse, especially when you have to deal with the petty dictatorship that is airport security and Ryanair. The former includes having to remove half your clothes and endure pat-downs, the latter, lack of information and delayed flights. Also, now that Ryanair has made it virtually bankrupting to take luggage, the aircraft sits on the tarmac for an additional twenty minutes while cabin staff try and force everyone's hand luggage into overhead lockers that are already full.

Ryanair is not good for people who are suffering from any form of stress. Especially flu.

However, my ghastly return journey was all worthwhile. Not one, but three smiling faces welcomed me on arrival back home. Husband had brought the dogs to the airport.
Aren't dogs wonderful? They never say: 'Where've you been? Why've you been gone so long? Who said you could go anyway?'
They just say: 'IT'S SO NICE TO SEE YOU!'
Unlike cats, they are instantly and endlessly forgiving.
They've never said a word about all the days when I was in bed and they didn't get a walk.
They looked sad, but they didn't say anything.
And they don't make loud and voluble complaints when breakfast is dished up late.
Or supper.
Unlike the cats.
And the hens.

Oh, the forgiveness of dogs!

Dear dogs

Picture it in Your Own Words - Contrast

This week's photo challenge is Contrast


I am sick. I am feeling very sorry for myself. I have succumbed to husband's flu.
A picture of me this week and last week would be quite a contrast, but none of you deserve to see such an appalling sight.

Instead here are some other images.

Sunset, the tip of Nephin just visible

Magnolia stellata flowers

Sunset - the only time those ugly poles seem eyecatching

Spring Mizzles Midst the Daffodils

Early this morning I went out into the garden to pick daffodils for the Market
It was what the Irish call a soft morning.
I think 'runny' might have been more accurate. Nice, but runny.
And for March, it was warm and blissfully still.


The cats all came to help, as they do. (Also to check I hadn't actually forgotten about breakfast.)

Lots of daffs at the market

Beside the daffodils, the chives are already four or five inches high. New, bright green spears thrusting through the soil, with curly-leafed sage curling up alongside, and hyacinths straggly but damply beautiful and heavily scented in the wet March air. And the pond is heaving with frogspawn on the turn, the miracle of life taking place in each and every gelatinous bobble, while the goldfish circle lazily, like sharks.
Do goldfish eat frogspawn?
I have no idea.

All around me spring has sprung.

The Forsythia's a bit of a miracle too

I love spring, but as husband and I commented on our way to the market, in my head Spring is an Event - possibly even with a fanfare - something I await every year with bated breath, whereas the reality is that it's been creeping in by the backdoor for months, and before you know it, it'll be over. Half the daffodils are finished even now, the crocus long gone, the snowdrops already just a memory.

While I am sleeping, the Shirotae will have burst, and I picked three bluebells in the woods ten days ago.
Bluebells in March?

The seasons are even more upside down than we thought. Looking back, there was a rose in flower on this bush or that climber throughout the winter, and everywhere I look, the weeds are flourishing.
The slugs and snails certainly are.
There is even a fat bud on one of my summer poppies!
But, like me, my lovely viburnum bodantense that has been in bloom since October, seems unaware that spring is here, that it should be packing  up and going to bed. Its bare branches are still covered in oleander-scented pink flowers, the tiny shoots of new leaves just starting to appear.
I think it's waiting for the sound of trumpets.

Perhaps I should tell it - fanfare or no fanfare, this is it. Now. Today.

Somehow I have to get out of my preconceived expectations and learn to revel in the moment.
Every moment.
Even if it is a mizzly one.

Narcissus have such pretty faces

The Sea Horse

The prompt for this week's 100 Word Challenge is a picture.

The driftwood horse at the Eden Project in Cornwall, UK

Isn't he stunning? 

My entry is a poem, The Sea Horse

The unbound tide has chased him,

the bone horse, raced him to mere

tracery, beached him, flittered and 

sand-blasted him smooth as silk.

Then the tide caressed him,

the sea horse, to moon-bleached 

bones; his hide forfeit, his

ribs pleached to lacy fretwork.

He rears from the waves, the

bone horse, staves off the 

tide's undoing and braves the

brittle judgement of the air.

He is lit from within, the 

sea horse; sinew and blood

effaced, his silken bones

encasing airy light and liquid grace.

Proudly he stands, the sea horse,

the bone horse, for he has won the race.

More driftwood horses by Heather Jansch

How strange - this is my second filigree horse this week. 
Here's the other one!

And, here is some more of Heather Jansch's fantastic work to inspire your dreams

Of Chieftains, Blossom Trees and Sunday Thrills

We had rather a different weekend - for us.

We got in the car and headed off inland. We don't do that very often, so it felt as if we were on holiday, or in a foreign country - or both.

The wide, flat horizons of Roscommon and Westmeath are very different to the coastal landscapes we are used to here, and while I wouldn't want to swap, it was nice to explore them for a few hours.
We were on a mission, but we managed a little detour to look at some trees. All grist for the mill in deciding what to plant in place of my poor, decapitated, hanged-drawn-and-quartered elm tree.

As well as the trees, our journey took us past the Chieftain which is always a pleasure.

The Chieftain by Maurice Harron

The Chieftain, who guards the pass into Sligo over the Curlew Mountains, is quite stunningly beautiful and never fails to move me. He stands high above the road, overlooking the ancient battlefield at Ballinafad, where the Irish routed the Brits back in 1599, and it's nice to know he's there, keeping watch. No one could slip into Sligo without him seeing. He is lifesize and looks completely real. As real as a ghost. A wraith-lord waiting, silently watching - as he watched for the first English soldiers to appear on the pass 400 years ago.It's as if he has been there ever since and Harron has somehow conjured him into nebulous reality.

(Honesty compels me to tell you that the Curlew Mountains ought really to be called the Curlew Hills, but that doesn't have the same romantic ring.)

Before we lived in the Emerald Isle, we used to visit regularly. That was years ago, long before the Chieftain was placed on his mound high above Lough Arrow to thrill you on your way. Then, there was just the old, winding road that twisted to the top of the Curlew pass, but even then it was a thrill because from there you had your first, distant view of Benbulben, Sligo's iconic mountain and you knew the wild, wonderful west coast was only an hour away.

Perhaps the Chieftain can see the sea, from his lofty perch. But he would need to turn his head - and he is too busy, watching.

Benbulben, Sligo's iconic mountain

But, thrilling and all as it was to see the Chieftain and look at previously unknown blossom trees, they weren't my only treats at the weekend.

We also went to the cinema.

I would like to be able to tell you that we go to the cinema every other weekend.
Alas, it is not so.
We always mean to, but it's just far enough away to require a certain commitment.

But we were determined to see The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel and  it was totally wonderful, so if you haven't seen it, do.
We went on Sunday afternoon and had the felicity of being half the audience! (It was a very early screening, but it suited us perfectly.)

I have to say we laughed out loud at regular intervals. Honesty again compels me to tell you that the other half of the audience didn't - but maybe they were just more contained than husband and me. Maybe they laughed quietly, to themselves.
It was poignant and touching too, and riotously colourful, as you would expect. It has immediately soared into my extremely select bracket of 'top movies' and I came out wanting to see it again as soon as possible.
Highly recommended.

We even saw a rainbow as we came out of the cinema - but I can't promise that you will too.

We even saw a rainbow

The tag line from the movie has been adopted into our family phrasebook forthwith:
'Everything will be all right in the end. And if it isn't - it isn't the end.'

Amen to that.

The Chieftain looms on the top of the hill - you see him first from far away

Elevenses - Tagging Along For the Ride

IsobelandCat has linked me into a daft blog game! It's all elevenses as far as I can make out, but no chocolate biscuits.
However, as I've been feeling eleventy-one years old today, I suppose it was meant to be.

THE RULES:
You must post these rules.
Paste the questions the “tagger” listed for you in their post onto a new post of your own and answer them
Create eleven new questions for the people you tag to answer.
Choose eleven people to tag and put a link to their pages in the post.
Let each taggee know that you have tagged them.

So - here are Isobel's 11 questions with my answers:


What makes you angry?   Any kind of cruelty to animals.

Where was your best UK holiday? (if you have never had a holiday in the UK, say where you would mots like to visit in the UK)   The magical summer holidays I spent with my husband in Somerset (his home county) when we first met and when we were first married

Where do you eat breakfast?  Standing on my head

Who in the public domain do you most admire?  Off the top of my head, Jamie Oliver and Hugh Fearnley  Whittingstall. They have both changed the way we think about food, and animal welfare and have been central to many people in the UK eating a healthier diet

Where would you advise a visitor to see in London? (if you’ve never been here, say where you would like to visit in London)  Greenwich, especially at the weekend - a lovely walk in the park and then a visit to the market. Or the other way round if you prefer. Lots of other things to do and see there too - the Observatory, the Cutty Sark, the Queen's House, the Maritime Museum etc etc etc. It was always one of my favourite places

What do you like most about your home?   That it fits like an old coat but manages to be so beautiful as well (beautiful building, rather than my clutter, I mean)

Would you ever have plastic surgery to reverse the signs of ageing?   After looking in the mirror this morning, how soon can I book?

What would you do if any of the following tried to shake your hand:
Vladimir Putin, David Cameron, Angela Merkel?  As I can't imagine any circumstances in which this could happen, I don't have to answer that

Which was your favourite Father Ted episode? (if you have never watched Father Ted rectify this life error asap)   I will try to rectify this terrible error

What are you reading and would you recommend it?  Notwithstanding by Louis de Bernieres, bought in a charity shop. Yes, it's delightful and quirky

For how many minutes do you boil an egg?   We have our own hens and the eggs take longer to boil than shop bought for some reason. I like eggs either really really soft or really really hard. - no idea how long either of those take to achieve. All a bit haphazard here!



OK - here are my questions:

Looking back, which author did you most love in that transition between childhood and becoming an adult?

Which 5 plants or species would you always want growing in your garden (or hypothetical garden)

What would you try to save if the house went up in flames and you knew all the people and animals were safely out?

Which country/city in the world (that you have never been to) would you most like to visit and why?

What's the number one favourite piece of music/song you would take to your desert island?

Do you read using a Kindle or would you if you could?

What individual item of food would you not eat, even if it was served to you at the Queen/President's dinner table? (Something ordinary, we're not talking about sheep's eyeballs here!)

If you found an unexpected £20 in the bottom of your coat pocket, what would you spend it on - books, wine, plants, clothes, bills...?

If your car could be any colour you want, what colour would it be?

Looking back, what do you most regret not buying (no matter how big or small)

Do you still have your childhood teddy bear? If so, what is he/she called?

I am tagging the following bloggers (who don't have to take part if they don't want to)

Mike 

Gilly 

Huffy 

smallhouse/BIGGARDEN 

Jo 

Carol 

Sony 

Judee

Anna 

Jonesingafter40 

BehindtheWillows

Isobel tagged the following bloggers:
Panhandleprep
Lorely
Lauren
Emma
Gracie
Mostly Functional
Araminta and Bilby
Ruth
Nandini
Sally-Jayne
Ronnie