Sunday Strolling

You know, it grieves me greatly that not so very long ago I would without thought don boots, pack sandwiches and away up a hill for the day with the dogs – whereas a 5 mile stroll, flat and easy, on Saturday left me hobbling, sore and aching. So sore about the hips and the Achilles that it was a close run thing on Sunday – a little walk, or lolling in the sun and watching the cricket.

I am proud, in the circumstances, to say that the boots won out over the deckchairs and we harnessed both dogs and flagging energies.  I almost left the camera at home, knowing that we would have to leash the dogs at points on the walk. Two people, three dogs. Not a simple equation when lunch packs, walking poles and cameras are factored in…  but… BUT what if? You know, there might have been puffins. I turned about, went back into the house, and I grabbed a camera. Not sure if it was worth lugging the weight really (it was very muggy) but I’m kind of glad I got the baby bun, even though I wasn’t really quite close enough.  I’m also glad that I took the walking pole even if I felt very silly about it. My joints were far less taxed even though the walking was harder than Saturday’s. Shorter, but certainly more difficult under sore feet.

I took Mr L round the route I went on with the Ranger, a circular from Villafield, via the cliffs and Boloquoy.

Nell made a point of finding a toy as soon as she possibly could, of course.

Nell, playing keepie uppie
Nell, playing keepie uppie

Suzie kept an eye on a couple of essential spares

Spare balls
Spare balls

Griff was away doing his own thing. We have concluded that he spends his walks searching for a lump of that Fun that Nell and Suzie always seem to find some of. He fails. He potters about at the water’s edge, sniffing here and there, going back for a second or third look. But he just can’t find it. Occasionally, he thinks he’s spotted some and a half wag of his tail is induced but then he adopts a mildly puzzled expression before returning to the endless search. Clearly the girls are digging up something, but he just can’t find out what Poor Griff – in a world of his own!

We sat for a while, letting Nell exercise some energy off while safely away from stock or hay. This turned out to be not for long as she was soon covered in blood from a nick on her nose and we had to take her ball away .

Up on the cliff the scene was very different from the last time that I was there. The sea pinks have gone over and turned a papery brown. Yellow no longer predominates, as Ragged Robin, orchids, forget-me-nots and even the heathers are blooming.

Bloomin' Heather
Bloomin' Heather

Of course I had to linger when we came to the birds. I’m still trying for “that” shot – which I will not get, ever, as I don’t have the right equipment. l do have fun trying though and am happy with some of the results. I’d just be happier if I had more, bigger, better, faster… But then, wouldn’t we all? 🙂

What, more fulmars?
What, more fulmars?

I got down on my belly, rested the zoom lens on a heathery hummock and I tried for some nest shots. They are O.K. but I would have liked to be closer. I’ll try again another time but am running out of time for this season, I think.  These babies are not so babyish, are they? Not too big to be fed, though.

Feeding time
Feeding time
The woman is obsessed
The woman is obsessed
sigh
sigh
Maybe there is a treatment?
Maybe there is a treatment?

While l was framing some fulmars a small movement half way down the cliff attracted my attention. This little chap popped out of his hole!

Baby Bunny!
Baby Bunny!

A wee little thing, living halfway up a cliff…

. . . that's a baby bunny!
. . . that's a baby bunny!

…evidently oblivious to the drop below.

We missed our weekend curry, with being out and about picnicking- so I am off now to redress the dietary balance. According to Mr L, curry is one of the main food groups… he can’t be expected to go without.

What? Knitting? Oh, maybe, later. Maybe not. Maybe I’ll do some tidying and loom-space making. Maybe.

Recently, at the: Crooked House

Bare Naked

Bare Naked

We are home again, after a month-long trip away. A trip during which I completely failed to get my laptop out. It was good to come home. We were driving along, close to Le Dorat at the time, when I felt that “aren’t we fortunate to live in such a lovely part of France” feeling washing over me. I had a sudden urge to invite all my friends to come and stay and to shareContinue readingBare Naked

A Month in France: Nothing is Lost

A Month in France: Nothing is Lost

I am lagging on the Month in the Country prompts, and lagging badly at that. I have a list of prompts t be caught up on and I shall be working my way through them here, or at Scattered Thoughts depending on where the post most naturally sits. I have elected to tackle the prompts not in date order necessarily but to seize upon prompts that offer me space in which to write down the things that I am feeling the need to say. Even if I need to crowbar it in. The thing is, I am going to continue to be short of time and space in which to write and so a two-for-one is useful and I hope to do as many of those as I can. Seems like a plan? … Continue readingA Month in France: Nothing is Lost

Recent movements of the: Deux Escargots

October 18, 2020 at 01:22PM

On our way again. Not far to go and no check in until 2pm so a late and lazy start to our day. I have been watching eagles. Not sure what we are going to be doing for the next few days. We want to take Nell to a vet and the outcome of that… Continue reading October 18, 2020 at 01:22PM

October 16, 2020 at 01:23PM

#livereportingfromtheroad #france #autumn2020