The thistly field has been mowed, a buzzard flutters lumberingly over it.
The goldfinches feed on forget-me-not seeds in Pierre's deserted garden, where I pick a handful of sour strawberries.
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Up the road or down, sometimes further afield, often not for long, we're out most days.
Thirty words a day, about walking the dog. Inspired by Clare's blog Once around the Park
Trédaniel plan d'eau
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June
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- Up the road, afternoon.
- Down the road, afternoon.
- Up the road, evening.
- Up the road, afternoon.
- Down the road, afternoon.
- Up the road, afternoon; flora.
- Up the road, afternoon.
- Woods near Pledran, by Gillian's.
- Down the road, evening
- Trédaniel plan d'eau, morning.
- Down the road, afternoon.
- Up the road, afternoon.
- Trédaniel plan d'eau, morning.
- Shopping in Langueux (Friday)
- Up the road, afternoon.
- Trédaniel plan d'eau, morning.
- Trédaniel plan d'eau, morning.
- Up the road, afternoon (Sunday)
- Down the road, afternoon.
- Trédaniel plan d'eau, morning.
- Île de Bréhat, all day.
- Up the road, afternoon.
- Down the road, late afternoon.
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June
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2 comments:
Lots of slightly sad words in this one.
Do you find a mowed field a bit melancholy?
Yes, I suppose I did a bit! I suppose they probably mow it most years, and it comes up again, but still. Pierre's old garden is a bit sad too, though in some ways a gentler place than it was when he was obsessively keeping it in order.
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