The clocks went forward an hour last night. Wilf thought about sleeping in but after feigned indifference opted to follow me on an early morning saunter down to the stream . The ramsons are in full bloom, carpeting the lane white and filling the air with their thick garlic scent. I laugh at the sight of five young fox cubs, fresh from their earth, zestfully exploring the world outside for the first time. They're oblivious to our presence, tumbling over each other in mock fight . Their watchful mother peering from the shadow of the hawthorns , catches our scent, barks at us and they disappear back to safety. Delight in life. The joy of springtime. Wilf nestles into me as if to say " I knew they were there ". ' Of course you did ' , I reply, tickling him behind the ears. The sweet uplifting optimism of an old, blind dog.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Of course you did.
Loic, the bifocaled gardener, arrives at the front door waving a monkey wrench. The irrigation systems not working. Loic talks in a rapid, impenetrable, mixture of highly accented French and Occitan so it takes me a little time to work out why he's so animated. We try the pump, which Loic for good effect hits three times with the monkey wrench. Followed round the garden by Wilf we then check for leaks, faulty connections, or non-functioning timers. Everything in perfect order. Finally, we check the well. Quite, quite dry. Due to the lack of rain the local farmers have started to irrigate the fields drawing the water table down and leaving us without water for the garden. The new lavenders and roses desperately in need of a downpour. Loic taps his nose and imparts the secret knowledge that " we shall suffer a terrible heatwave this year ". That's cheerful.