Another Saturday - how quickly they come round. The farmer is out cutting grass for other people today, so Tess and I have a day to ourselves. What to do?
First there is gooseberry jam to be made. We have the best crop of gooseberries that we have ever had and not a sign of either sawfly or mildew (largely due to early spraying I think). I pick four pounds, come in and make eight pounds of jam - a lovely, jammy smell permeates the house. The jars look good when they are all full and I feel good too. Then we decide to go for a walk (well Tess decides and I acquiesce - the easiest option). On the way past the vegetable garden I notice the goose berry bushes - have I really picked four pounds this morning? If so then you really can't see where I have been, there are still stones of fruit to go. Gooseberry curd next?
Shakespeare really knew his countryside when he said "summer's lease hath all too short a date". Already the wild flowers are on the wane and the grasses are going to seed. There are so many different grasses that I resolve to come out one day with my grasses book and see what they all are. In the meantime I take a few photographs of the more common ones.
We walk over the fields into the village. The grey heron precedes us, rising up and tucking in his long legs, only to land a few yards further up in the beck again. It is not until we reach the lane that he flies back, passing us on his leisurely flight and landing behind us this time.
We are visited by Mr and Mrs Curlew, both feigning broken legs/wings/beaks in their efforts to deflect our interest away from their wandering/hiding chicks.
We reach the road, walk round the village, call in at my son's (Dominic Rivron - see blog list) for a cup of coffee and a sit in their lovely garden, and then it is home again.
Watch this space later in the week for a spot of grass identification. Happy weekend to all readers.