The wind is howling around and the always rather tenuous connection is being sorely tested, again.
Years ago we lived in a village which held an annual scarecrow festival as a fundraiser. Tetney village is much larger than this one and the many villagers fell into various factions: the ones who belonged to the Mother's Union, the Women's Institute members, the Church-goers, the Village Hall people, and those who preferred the pub - oh, and there was one other group, they mischieviously called themselves the T.W.A.T.S. Tetney W(h)ine and Tasting Society.
There would be Cream Teas in the Village Hall, a Flower Festival in the church, horse rides on the village green, along with Tombola stalls, face painting, craft stalls, tug of war, raffles and so on. Everywhere was dressed up with bunting, we all wore happy smiles, though there were always deeper elements and undercurrents...think Midsomer Murder.
Villagers were expected to produce a scarecrow of some kind, then display it in their garden. It was a big event and raised a lot of money because it attracted so many visitors.
Worzel Gummidge and Aunt Sally were the ones I decided to make - how I wish I had kept them, the birds are already trying to feast on the tender plants in the vegetable garden.
Ah, well. Can't keep everything.
I had to rummage around to find a few old clothes to make a new one for the vegetable garden in the old meadow. Unfortunately, after my purge of the dressing room (last year) there wasn't much left to choose from, or nothing I was willing to sacrifice anyway.
Eventually I found some old bits hidden away in a cubby hole, old fleecey things. Deeply unattractive, but they do the job. A bit of spotty fabric for a neckerchief, an old straw hat, and there we are.
Meet Dotty Oldmeadow.
She's not much of a looker but she is out there day and night doing her best. Can't ask for more than that.