Pheasants ate his brain.

Mar 31, 2012 19:19

There were pheasants down by the stream this afternoon, and Pip went rampaging through bog and brake in a complete frenzy, all training forgotten.

The transformation that comes over Pip when he encounters a pheasant is uncanny. I'm beginning to wonder whether Pip might not have fallen foul of an Irish bishop and broken the bishop's bell. But no. I'm remarkably wander-witted at the end of a week of shift-work, but I think even I would have noticed a fearsome clanging and a bishop shouting curses.



The Marsh Marigolds are out, down by the stream. Caltha palustris - Caltha being 'an old Latin name used by Pliny for a marigold, from [the Greek] goblet'. (Source:The Names of Plants - David Gledhill). Golden goblets.

Out on the common, the first of the blackthorn is coming into blossom. Folklore has it that when the blackthorn hedges turn snow white with blossom, the cold weather is drawn back by some sympathetic magic - the Blackthorn Winter. And after a week of exceptionally warm weather, the winds are now swinging back around to the north, the temperature dropping.

Arrived back home with a very muddy dog. Celebrated by cracking open a fresh bottle of dog shampoo.

british wildflowers, dog walk

Previous post Next post
Up