At last it is the day for Tess to have a haircut. No matter that I always make the appointment for late March, expecting the weather to be a little kinder by then, the hair cut day always seems to coincide with a cold spell. And so it is today. Not that she seems to notice. She only has one thing on her mind when she steps out of the back door - RABBITS - and there are plenty of them around at the moment, so she should be preoccupied.
To show you the transformation which will take place later this morning, I have taken a photograph of her in her present state. It is not a good photograph - she was totally disinterested (she is never a Prima Donna) and even refused to look in my direction. Still, at least you can see the length of her hair. Later in the day - after my afternoon at our Poetry meeting, I will post a shot of the smart, new Tess for you to compare.
On the subject of our Poetry afternoon, always one of my favourites, so far I have only chosen two poems. Several times this week I have come across the Kipling Poem "The Smuggler's Song" (watch the wall me darlin's while the gentlemen go by) so I am reading that, although we have had it many times before. It is an old favourite. Also Hildred (day by day on my side bar) quoted the first verse of a Christina Rossetti poem about the coming of Spring. It is a lovely poem, so I am reading that too. Now I must look for another two poems to take - always a lovely occupation over a cup of coffee.
See you later in the day with an 'after' photograph.
Well, here I am later in the day but alas no photograph. She would not stand still and in artificial light there was too much glare, so I will try and put one on in the morning. She certainly looks (and smells) considerably better, although I like her best after about a fortnight's growth of hair. As to wearing a coat to keep her warm - we tried that and she absolutely hated it. When the farmer took her for her afternoon walk (after the haircut) she chased so many rabbits and got half way down so many rabbit holes, that he finally had to put her on the lead and literally drag her home. So I don't think she really felt the cold. When I came in after Poetry, she jumped on my knee and had a good nap. I must say it isn;t often I can bear her on my knee because she eats sheep poo and usually smells awful - but today she only smelled of shampoo.
And speaking of our Poetry afternoon, as usual it was my favourite afternoon of the month. We always go to friend W's and sit in her lovely conservatory, where there is plenty of room. Today there were only eight of us. We managed only three poems each but had plenty of time for discussion in between - not deep discussion, just a light talk about the poet and/or about the poem. I can't remember all that was read but there was poetry by The Prophet, Khalil Gihlbran, Douglas Dunn, Sir Walter Scott, Rupert Brooke, Philip Larkin, Charles Causley among others. Friend S always reads lovely funny poetry - a brilliant one today which had us all in fits of laughter and which often lightens the atmosphere after a particularly sad poem.
Throughout the afternoon the rain poured down on the conservatory roof - we didn't care at all. W's conservatory has under floor heating, we were warm and cosy and amongst good friends. What more could you wish for?