27th July 2019 Duck!

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Saturday 27th 70-79F, bright and rather breezy with a milky sky to the north. Small blobs of cloud to the south. The latest heatwave is supposed to be a couple of degrees lower today. The TdeF was cut short by mudslides after heavy hail storms in the mountains.

My walk to the lanes was more plodding than brisk. There were pleasant moments when the wind picked up enough to cool me off. The roads were strewn with oil seed rape seeds. Presumably from a leaky, farmer's trailer. The tiny, black, ball bearings turning yellow when mistreated by cruel tyres.

I saw a runner disappearing along the lane in the time it took me to reach the junction. Which is really quite unusual. 73F at 9.30. The black sludge spread on the fields was really ponging today. It made me sneeze several times.

We were very lucky yesterday. An asteroid, with the energy of 30 Hiroshima bombs, whizzed passed the Earth within 1/5 of the distance of the moon. The asteroid was only spotted with a couple of days to spare. Thankfully, we were saved by El Chumpo's Great Border Wall. So that's alright then.

A later morning ride to more distant shops but without success. I had to shop more locally, on the way home, to restock the depleted larder. Rather windy at times from changing directions. The trees in the forest were roaring wildly as I passed through, pedalling for life and limb. Only 14 miles.

Sunday 28th 67-70F, overcast and windy. Possible thunderstorms and cloudbursts are promised. The heat is moving away into the Arctic which is already burning from wildfires. Icelandic scientists have raised a gravestone to a vanished glacier. A jumbled sky and towering cumulus gradually darkened on my walk. Electric blue chicory decorated the chest-high grasses of the verges. Competing with bright poppies and sultry thistles taller than any man.

I wrestled briefly with the massive and prickly stems of a wild rose bush. Which had hurdled itself willfully out from the hedgerow. As is their silly habit. To take up a good couple of yards of bare asphalt in a show of foolhardy rebellion. Countless red stems followed the rose's example and put out feelers onto the traffic lane. It has been a very good year for creeping plants.

Brief glimpses of a watery sun soon gave way to more threatening cloud from the east. Solitary gulls meandered listlessly across the landscape. Listening for rumours of the breakfast gong amongst their widely scattered brethren. A melancholy wind rose and fell in the thirsty trees.

THG is busy putting out her collection buckets to gather in every last drop to be had. To revive her all too numerous pots and sprawling but highly beneficial flower beds. Her reputation precedes her in local butterfly and bee circles. With no reservations required. Nor even a tip for the tireless and endlessly patient Maître d'. I have even heard that Hover flies, all in their best, stripey jumpers, worship THG as a deity. I know I do.

Just when you thought it was safe to go into the garden: It's Strictly Twilight Zone! THG hit a solid object while cultivating. [As she does.] Resulting in a full-on archeological dig to try to release a smallish [boys?] bicycle buried on its side in the garden. Another day of intensive digging should finally free it. I can confirm it is not a dinosaur. Nor even a valuable veteran. Though I do fear it will not be in saleable condition once extracted.

Quite why anybody should go to such trouble as to bury a bicycle is a mystery which will probably never be answered. The previous owner of our rural hovel having passed away to make room for our purchase. His international reputation for shoddy building work might have given a clue as to which direction he was headed.

One must pray the immature rider is not still entombed nearby. We dug up a dead cow and a dog at our last place. But that was Wales and the sort of thing you must expect. We are still fully prepared for the worst. Having the coroner on speed dial might have been sensible. If only we knew how to work these silly little telephones everybody seems to look down their noses at these days.
 

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