Silent Sundays: season of mists

Silent Sunday

I could do with a little silence today. It’s been a busy, busy week.

Tea and scones in Les Papillons in Oradour-sur-Vayres…

Storms over Anais

And plenty of weird cloud formations

Blue skies this morning over us on our walk

But still lots of water for splashing in

Sparkly water

And finally, my plum has blossomed… Spring is here.

Silent Sundays

Thanks to Simplicity in Action, I’ve picked up a whole load of new readers…. so thanks so much for stopping by! It means a lot to me.

I do two things fairly regularly on this blog, besides pontificating about life… and that’s Much Love Mondays, where I offset the Monday gloom (not that I really get any!) with some things I love, and Silent Sundays where I remember that silence is golden. Lots of words spill out of my mouth and fingers, and this is my way of finding that small voice of calm in amid the noise and chaos.

I think it’s a pictorial representation of things that have made me smile in the week. That’s all.

Enough with the words.

 

 

 

 

 

Almost Silent Sunday

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Those of you who knew Tilly before Heston will probably join me in complete astonishment that she plays at all. She used to look at Molly and César playing and wonder what the hell they were doing. She’d bark at them and get upset. She was the least likely dog ever to play with a puppy. The chances of her being playful were about the same as the chance that Victoria Beckham might give a natural smile. And that, as you know, is not a very big chance at all.

And now there is a lot of playing in this house. She might be a good three inches shorter than him now, with a tiny little mouth and jaw, and blunt little claws, but she plays and plays. It’s amazing to watch this sad little unsocialised dog learn to play for the first time. When she arrived at our house, she didn’t play at all. Jake taught her to run for a ball, and sometimes she’d play with a bit of bone, but the chance of her playing with Molly was nil. She still won’t run for a ball, but she’s turned into a completely different dog. Hopefully she’ll learn that chest down, bum up, tail wagging, playful bark means ‘Come On! Come and Wrestle With Me!’

Silent Sunday

 

 

 

 

 

Silent Sunday

 

 

 

 

 

 

Silent Sunday

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Silent Sunday

 

 

 

I need to break the vow of silence to explain the last two photos. It was Eurovision last night, and we had been given a country to represent. I was representing Azerbaijan, and so I was suitably attired in red, blue and green, just like the flag. I’m going to leave it at that.

Silent Sundays

Are about to be over for the next eight weeks as Steve and Jake return for their last term in France… and then the silence will return – no doubt interrupted by various guests.

I made the most of it by going to La Rochefoucauld for a couple of baguettes – I tend not to eat too much bread when I’m on my own – they go stale before they’re over. The bakeries and florists are open on Sunday mornings – I love this. The town is actually busy for once. The man in front of me picked up about ten little patisserie gateaux for his children – and since he left one solitary eclair, I decided to indulge myself. I’ve had precisely two in two years. It was heavenly. Not only was the entire street filled with the sweet smell of sugar, but the sun came out. If I ever get tired of bakeries on Sunday mornings and picking up the baguettes, I’m moving to Italy for a new adventure. I don’t think it’s going to happen though.

Rain clouds still sit and wait on the horizon

Sun over colza fields

Vines under water… just disappearing now

Dogs investigating

Noireau bringing up the rear

Silent Sunday… rainy day pursuits

All our drainpipes were like this yesterday...

 

Poor little wet hens

 

First harvest... huge radishes

 

This dog is too stupid to keep off the vegetables

 

Almost drowned plants...

 

Why must all cats sit on the stuff you are doing?

 

For every cloudy day, there is a rainbow