A little time-waster.

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Another scorching hot day in Cornwall, the sun blazing down from a cloudless sky. Too hot for gardening, and anyway, everything seems to be looking after itself for now. The greenhouse was opened first thing this morning, a gentle breeze drifting through keeping the temperature to moderate.
I gave everything a good soaking in the cool of the evening, and I noticed this morning that a few more of the daylilies have opened their buds. The runner beans are reaching for the sky, and the potatoes are trying to climb out of their special bags. You can’t beat freshly harvested potatoes smothered in parsley butter.
Anyway, as there’s not much doing at the moment, I thought you might like to read a little whimsy I scribbled down at writing group last winter. I think you’ll find it appropriate.

A JOURNEY It’s been a long day. Well, I suppose you could call it a day, but as I usually travel at night, it all depends on your viewpoint. Although, having said that, my particular viewpoint leaves a lot to be desired. I don’t get to see too much when I’m travelling, and when your route is governed by the location of the next meal, it can be somewhat restrictive.

Then, of course, people make changes. They put obstacles in your way, move things around, that sort of thing. I don’t travel far, but when I’ve found a route with a good meal at the end of it, I like to stick to it. Pardon the pun. What pun? Oh.You’ll see.
Jake comes with me sometimes. He’s one of my several offspring, but being young he does tend to get rather distracted. He’s also quite small for his age, which does tend to worry me. Where is he at the moment? No idea.
Come on; we’re going this way. Yes, I know it looks dark and dangerous, but it’s a good short cut, if you’re careful. I found it three nights ago, followed my nose, so to speak. Plenty of good fresh food, and somewhere to shelter when you’ve eaten your fill.
No, I can’t go any faster. Two miles a night is my top speed. You go on ahead if you want, but be on the lookout. They don’t like us being here. Lost our Sally last week, way over the far side. I told her, “Your curiosity will be the end of you, my girl.” but would she listen? Anyway, they got her. Trapped. Carted off the next morning.
You’re off, are you? Well, I might see you again on my travels; that’s if the beer traps or the little blue pellets don’t get me.

Have a great day. Bbb