I've had an interesting week. I was invited down to Brecon, to talk at a Soroptimist charity dinner. I was a Soroptimist some years ago and know they raise a lot of money for many good causes. I was asked to stay at my friend's holiday cottage on their farm, at 1,100 ft and was delighted to do so, but of necessity my dogs would have to stay in the car overnight.
Tara, my labrador/whippet cross has a very thin coat, and I was worried she would be very cold, so before I went, I took myself to a pet shop to buy her a coat. Of course, I didn't think to take her, so after some discussion with the pet shop proprie
tor, I got her one I thought would fit, suitable to her shape, and when I got home, tried it on, and miraculously, it did.
I put it in the car, and after a long drive down, and several lovely walks on the common overlooking the Brecon Beacons and Corn Ddu and a fascinating evening, I settled the dogs down and put the coat on Tara. First thing the next day I let them out for their first run, when they enjoyed a romp with the four farm dogs.
Once back at the car I tried to take the coat off Tara, but she was obviously deliriously happy in it. It was only after a couple of hours in the warm car that she consented to having it removed.
I drove back through mid-Wales, on a glorious day, with fantastic views over spectacularly beautiful countryside. Some of it quite took my breath away. Then came the long slog up the motorway, and as I approached Yorkshire I needed to think about refuelling. I had seen various prices, but decided to wait until I got home. To my surprise the cheapest was at my local garage after all.
Later during the week, it was cold outside, so I put the coat back on Tara. She saw me pick it up and rushed to jump into it. After her trip to the vet her ears have begun to heal, and she is a very happy animal. She tells me this every day when she comes for a cuddle after her meal in the evening.
On my way to work I pass a field with some magnificent horse chestnut trees. I have watched as daily the leaves have been turning from their summer green, to the most magnificent russet shades, with a glorious display of gold, bronze and yellow. All around autumn is progressing with its varied palate. The grass is changing, more subtly, but it no longer has the goodness it did, so I have started to feed the sheep a bit of proven. My Tup, John, has woken up to what he is there for and is spending time with the ewes. I hope for healthy lambs in the spring.
I love this time of year, and the beauty it unfolds. I spent most of my formative years with access to the Winchester water meadows, where the John Keats poem Ode to a Grecian Urn which begins "Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness" was written. The mellowness is there, but this year there has been a strange dearth of fruitfulness. I have hardly seen a decent blackberry, or any sizeable hazelnuts. Even the hips and haws are not as good as usual. It worries me that if there is a bad winter, the birds and wildlife will die
of hunger.
My cousin came up for a couple of days, after the exhausting time organising her daughter's wedding. She loves the beauty of the Dales, and is not only my cousin, but also my very good friend.
We drove to IIkley through Burnsall and then Bolton Abbey. The river looked wonderful and autumn was showing everywhere.
Once again despicable thieves have broken into and stolen from our church here at Linton. The previous evening at the Parochial Church Council meeting we were discussing how to raise the funds for a better security system. This thieving is beginning to make me very angry. I am not alone in this. Local feeling is one of contempt and outrage.
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