22.06.2022 Very local drought!

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 Wednesday 22nd 54F, overcast. Up at 5.30. Reading the news and blogging until breakfast at 07.00.

 07.30 An early walk to the lake for an hour and quarter. Teased by very distant grebes, ducks and birds of prey. 

 Dozens of swallows zooming around for my entire walk. Some skimming the water.

Perfection in a roadside hedge.

 I perched on a picnic bench and snapped away at the birds out on the lake. 

 I don't seem to have much to say at the moment. I am coming to terms with my wife's ashes no longer sitting on the tallboy in the lounge.

 Is she still here? Can I continue to talk to her? I have to admit that I found her cardboard "urn" rather off-putting. Even though I had chosen a nature theme with butterflies.

 More flowers from the local building site. My wife used to complain that I took more pictures of other people's flowers than her own. I just had an eye for a picture on my morning walks.

 My wife loved everything green and butterflies in particular. Though bees were her absolute favourite. She saw growing flowers for the bees as her duty as a gardener. To combat the constant rain of toxins used in industrialised, Danish farming. Even the water supply is contaminated.

 She would always dash indoors if she heard a tractor. They were completely invisible behind the curtain of tall hedges and trees. Though they would most often be towing vast sprayers. Her plants used to get discoloured spots. Where she claimed that spray drift had landed. Her favourite plants would suddenly wilt and die after a sprayer had been identified locally. Which made her angry and depressed. Again it would be blamed on agricultural poisons.

 09.30 61F. Still cool and grey. Morning coffee over. I need a shower before I can go shopping and have a haircut.

 10.30 No water = No shower. A digger has broken the pipeline. It could be hours before it is fixed.

14.00 Returning on the trike from the hairdressers and shopping. First time I have ever tried to ride on the SPD pedals with ordinary shoes. Awkward, but wasn't long before my cadence was up in the 90s. The water is back on [two hours too late] but there is air in the pipes.

 23.30 Dinner was a bit strange. I had browned the mushrooms but then had nowhere left to fry the eggs. So I pushed the mushrooms to the side and added the eggs to the same pan. The result was a visual mess but tasty enough. I made far too many potatoes again. 

 The dark objects, at left, were a gift from a kind neighbour and still warm. Frikadellers are a familiar Danish dish. Minced meat in flattened balls. Quite spicy. Or perhaps peppery? I had to look them up to know what they were made of. It was not something my wife ever cooked. 

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