Dogs, cats, birds and bees...

Yet again my lovely animals and birds (and bees, mustn't forget the bees) lift me out of introspection and into garden happiness. Not that my 'happy place' isn't inside my head as well. But the silly singing season is in full swing, with lots of performances from my choirs (note the possessive and the plural).

 By some rambling pink roses.
Black Buster

Early cup of tea with Minimus on the cottage verandah, both of us watching a couple of mallard ducks on the pond. Bellbirds chirping and whistling above. Aargh! Here come the dogs. Wary of Minimus (a little cat with a big heart), they flop down on the grass to wait patiently for mother movement. Then black Buster peers through the distant archway. A warning 'hiss' from Minimus - this is her territory, and while I sit here I am HERS.

 Sally Holmes roses and late flowering rhododendron in the background.
Winnie in the Driveway

Earlier I'd trodden on a bumble bee. Oops. Soooooo sorry! Dunking my stinging big toe in the pond, the rest of me almost wobbled in as well. The ducks floated past, not a problem. The bee flew away.

 And the rose Westerland.
Flower growth - Lychnis

Oh dear me...

A bit later - oh dear me! Feeling sooooo deflated after a string of high quality, energy-packed singing concerts, I went to sit on the comfy stump in The Hump (check out that alliteration). I was in a bit of a mood. Enter the dogs. Thinking : 'Our lovely mother seems a little downcast. We need to cheer her up. I know! Throw the ball! Throw the stick!'

NO problem!

Black Buster peeped through the shrubs, and some bees came to investigate my blue shirt. Then the bellbirds arrived (they're not tame, but enjoy following me and the dogs around the garden). So what exactly was my problem? Of course! There was NO problem!


My garden has a bit of a problem, though. Since I have been otherwise engaged getting choristers to 'tra-la-la' with finesse and gusto for the last two weeks, the shrubs, flowers, and weeds (naturally) have taken full advantage and gone 'bouff'. And I mean 'BOUFF!'

So in between throwing the ball and the stick, calling back to the birds, and taking photographs, I've been weeding, pulling out old forget-me-nots, trimming Aquilegias, and dead-heading the first roses. And not nearly enough, methinks.

Now it's just the Christmas carol singing to go. I'm a bit alarmed at my early Christmas present (a shiny orange tractor with a scoopy bucket).

 I do not think so!
My Christmas Present?

I actually suspect that Non-Gardening Partner bought it for himself. I can't see myself rattling over the lawns scooping up things and dumping them elsewhere. My instincts are much more primitive - bucket, shovel, and rake.

P.S. Don't you just adore pastel roses? I do!