We've been having some horrendous weather, wet and windy. Yesterday started out sunny, so I took the risk of going to the zoo. Luckily I was only caught in two nasty downpours.
Lucifer found a patch of sun to sleep in. He looks like a big old moth-eaten rug:
The girls were looking for trouble:
(Nice view of Lucifer's bollocks, by the way.)
OK, let's have a wander and see if we can find any mischief:
On the other hand, can we really be bothered?
Meanwhile, Lumpur struck a typical laid-back cat pose:
My computer is still in hospital, but the technician has something new to try before giving it the last rites.
I've tried to get some builders along to give me estimates to fix my leak, no luck.
BUT the engineer came today, a day early, to fix my central heating boiler, and even though we both thought he'd have to try and find a spare part or two for the 12-year-old appliance, he found some loose gubbins and tightened it up and - Hey Presto! One fixed boiler. And working like a brand new one, he said, not like the old lady she is.
The more creatures I see and hear in my garden the happier I am. I spend a fortune each week on food to put out for the birds. It's been a few days since this year's young starlings fledged and appeared at the feeders. Today I've spotted the first young sparrows.
My orange ball bush (Buddleia globosa) is in full flower, and is covered with bees. It's a relief to know that they haven't yet become extinct, hereabouts at least.
While I was filling the feeders this evening, right over my head, an invisible wren sang its amazing song, loud for such a tiny bird, and very intricate. As usual someone had uploaded a suitable video to YouTube:
Two years ago I started feeding the local fox after two of my chickens were killed. I thought it was better to make sure they had no need of fresh hen. Of course, since then we have had two dreadful winters and two appalling summers, so I've found it very difficult to phase the feeding out.
It became impossible when a fox started waiting at the end of the garden while I filled up the bird feeders, in full expectation of a feed.
A couple of nights ago, as I watched the fox approach the food, I suddenly became aware that there was a rough and tumble going on, and realised there were two cubs with their mother. I rushed in to get my camera, but when I snapped a picture, unusually the flash was on, and the youngsters fled. I haven't seen them since. But with a bit of tweaking, I brightened the picture I did get enough for the figures of the three of them rather than just the flash reflected in their eyes:
I think the resemblance of my garden to a piece of unkempt woodland helps them feel at home.
