Day to Night

How quickly brightness can turn into menacing dark. Walking with Ruth before going to the opening of the Alde Valley Spring Festival down the road in Great Glemham, I was horrified to see Hugo run off, but even more horrified when he was gone for several hours. We took it in turns to look for him, the other one waiting to see if he would find his own way back. The imagination runs riot under these circumstances, but all the mind-spinning dreads were legitimate: he'll break a leg, he'll be stolen, he'll be attacked by a muntjack. The one thing I can say to put this in perspective, I glumly told Ruth, is that losing a child is worse than this. I know, I've experienced it. At around 1pm he finally emerged, wet, muddy and bedraggled, eyes mostly closed, all four paws incapable of walking. He staggered towards me, and we managed to get him in the car and safely home. By the next day he still couldn't walk, and I feared a torn tendon or ligament. I gave him some anti-inflammatory/painkiller medicine left over from last time, and he was a bit better by the evening. By Monday morning he had rallied and his walking was much improved, but I took him to the vet anyway for a check-up. Happily all is well and he just needs to rest. I will continue the medication for the rest of the week. Oh Hugo! You have to be allowed to run, that is for sure, but how I wish you would restrain yourself from mad do-or-die dashes that tax us both in different ways.

Poor suffering little me

Since then I've been to London and back, and weeded the big shrub bed, a not insignificant job. Once the ground has been rained on, or hosed, the weeds come up very easily. I could do this all day if it didn't make my neck ache. The morning began grimly with grey skies and a strong and cold breeze, but by lunchtime the sun was out again and so were we. Nick spent yesterday raking the front beds to a fine tilth in my absence, and now I can fill the empty spaces with beautiful plants that will restore this part of the garden to its former beauty. I have seeds to sow if I think the soil is warm enough; dahlias sprouting in the summerhouse; potatoes chitting in old compost bags, and various plants ready to be found permanent homes. I've even weeded most of the bark path down the long hedge side of the garden. Ah, it's all sheer bliss.

Tonight I came home from evacuation practice at Snape to a very nice supper of bream with puy lentils in a delicious vinaigrette, and cavalo nero with ladybird. The latter was an accident but I forgot that I'd noticed one on the veg and steamed it anyway. Then I couldn't find it. Just as well I'm not a Buddhist. I'd be struck off.