Perfume in the Barley Field

This morning the sky was low, with heavy clouds and a very humid feel to the air.    It looked as though rain would soon be falling.    Still, no matter what the weather, dogs need their walks, even lazy dogs like Dobson.

He would rather spend extra time snoozing rather than risk getting his paws wet.  

I cut through the large barley field, taking the diagonal right of way, which takes one right to the heart of the field.  Dobson trotted off to enjoy all the smells which interest dogs so much and I was free to wander at my own pace, enjoying the peace.

Gradually, I became aware of a wonderful scent in the air, presumably compounded from the barley and all the plants in the distant surrounding hedges, everything being trapped by the humidity and low cloud.

It is difficult to describe the smell, other than to say that it was lovely and reminded me so much of one of my favourite perfumes from the past...which one though?  I don't know for sure, but my inner eye kept giving me the image of a silver, black and blue container - which I think contained the perfume Rive Gauche.

It is many decades since I used that perfume and I cannot consciously recall the scent at all.  I shall have to investigate next time I am shopping in town.

This evening the clouds are still low down, the air is filled with moisture and I have just walked Dobson around our little patch of woodland.    The smell in there immediately transported me back to my childhood days and our visits to the Botanical Gardens in Hong Kong.   I loved that moist and humid smell of greenery.   To be honest it could be smelt in other places, but it was always that much more intense in the Botanical Gardens due to all the foliage and plants.

The floor of the woodland is carpeted (to a height of 5 or 6 feet) with Queen Anne's Lace, Hogweed, Jack-by-the-Hedge, red campion, nettles, dock, buttercups, and lots more which I cannot name at the moment.

The gap between all this greenery and the green canopy of the trees themselves traps the air and the scent is concentrated.    

Bring on warm sunshiney days, but in the meantime I'll enjoy these lovely and evocative scents.

I borrowed the image from http://cyrustravelogues.bravesites.com

Sleepy Sundays

Coco is sleeping like a sweet little innocent.   She spent last night outside (her choice) hunting.   When I opened the door this morning I was greeted with a stained and bloody doorstep and her haul for the night...a teenage rat, a large mouse, and some tiny headless creature.    She strolled in, ate a hearty breakfast and flaked out on the sofa.

I took Dobson through the small gate to the barley field - his first experience of it this year.   He trotted out there very happily, romped through the field, happily sniffing and chasing his ball.

He was happy, until we reached a certain corner of the field - it backs onto the old school playing field - and then he began to growl, tail between his legs, refusing to move forward.    I tried to cajole him into moving, but he wouldn't.   Eventually I clipped his lead on and ran him away from there, making a game of it and he settled down.

Our walk continued, peacefully, happily.   His nose got a workout and so did his legs.  All seemed well with the world.  We turned the final corner and home came into sight, that was it then.   He scooted, ran for all he was worth, not looking back, until he reached the safety of the small garden gate.

To his credit, he did stay and watch to make sure that I got home safely...

Now he is safely snoozing in his bed, under my work table.   Poor lad, I'll never know what happened to him in the two years before we got him, all I can try to do is build up his confidence, bit by bit.

Poppy, I thought you may like to see Max and Merry, they are sitting right next to me...

Merry is watching 'The Gruffalo's Child', Max is snoozing.
fliss&max
xxx

Combine Harvester and Motorbikes in Little Bunting

The loud rumble of heavy farm machinery in 'our' barley field heralds the start of some fun.

Farmer T drives the combine harvester and is followed by his mother, Mrs T Snr, driving her red tractor and wagon.

They grow 'em tough in Little Bunting, for Mrs T is in her early 70's and still puts in a full day of farm work.   She works as many hours as her son, driving the tractor and wagon back and forth.   I like her, I wish I had her stamina.

They toil late into the evening, trying to beat the wet weather which is forecast.

Things change when the barley has gone, before ploughing begins.

First of all, we can begin to use this little gate.   It leads directly into the huge barley field, which means that silly-billy Dobson will have a couple of weeks of stress-free walks, no need to walk along the lane before turning into the field.

photograph stolen from my brother, Mr Whiskerburn.

It also means that these bad boys will come visiting, as the annual Enduro motorbike race will probably go ahead in the village.   There will be a weekend of noise, dust, and activity in our little village.  Some people hate it, I find that I quite enjoy it.

Sorry, Mr Whiskerburn, yours again.x

They only race around the harvested barley fields for a couple of hours at a time and it raises a hefty chunk of much needed money for the Little Bunting village fund.

Thanks, Mr W.

Let the fun begin!