Marcelle gives me shocking pink asters and hazelnuts. Pierre stops the tractor and promises me firewood for winter.
The dead cow is still in the field, still dead.
Country matters.
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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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- Up the road, afternoon.
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2 comments:
A beautiful vignette you have drawn with your words of life in the country, Lucy. I am so glad you are back.
:)
Thanks Crow. I'm not sure the dead cow is very beautiful, in fact I know it isn't.
I told Pierre about it, who said to ring his son who'd tell the farmer to whom those particular cows belonged. I tried to do so, and to ring the farmer who owned them, but without success, no one answered the 'phone. I didn't check on it today, but the other cows were grazing in that part of the field again, which they weren't before - animals don't like being near other dead animals. So I'm hoping Pierre himself passed the message on and they've done something about it. I'm feeling slightly digruntled as I feel they should check on their livestock themselves, even young stock left out as these are; it shouldn't be up to me to be on dead cow patrol!
I half thought of doing a photo post along the lines of 'Nasty Things in the Countryside', featuring aforesaid dead cow, battery turkey sheds, slurry pits and other not-so-picturesque things to be seen on my walks. But I'm not sure I have the moral courage...
On the other hand the asters and cobnuts were lovely.
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