Of Triffids, Sand and Rhododendrons

It is an indication of the long, light evenings that I never noticed this triffid growing since it has obviously been growing for some time! Actually it is jasmine and has been flowering since late November on the inside window ledge. Considering it sulked for about two years I do think I am getting the value from it now!

Triffid- aargh!

On Streedagh during the week the wind was so strong that the sand was in constant motion. It is difficult to see but all those white streaks are lines of moving sand. It doesn't always happen in the wind but when it does it feels like walking in a snowstorm, or how I imagine shifting snow might look, bit warmer though! We are still getting ground frosts at night here, and that is very rare.

Travelling Sand

The rhododendrons are coming into flower, along with the May and the end of the bluebells. Everything is so out of sync as the May and bluebells ought have been over weeks ago. Today we are enjoying gale force winds and pouring rain so no flowers would stay still for photo ops! The cuckoo has been here for the last fortnight, to me the sound is so old world rural, seasons have always turned at the sound of the cuckoo. It is quite rare to hear the cuckoo now, I believe, but perhaps people do not always have the time to listen.

 

I have said it before and I will say it again, I am so lucky to live where I do. It is a privilege to have the opportunity and the time to watch the seasons and scenery. Of course there are down sides, rural living is not all dreams and daisies, and some of the frustrations are more 1890s than 2015 but for me it is worth it...preferable to living over a pub in the centre of town, although at the time that too was ok in its way.

P.S. Have you ever realised how loud a snail's chewing sounds in the middle of the night? I'm telling you I thought I had a cow in the room and it was only a snail which had managed to find its way on to the spathyphillum on the bookcase.

Grrrrr....

Humans!

Private Letter to the Human Using Our House:

Dear Human,

The snails in the kitchen bees tellin' us that you had been publicatin' epistolaries to us-es, but since they is bein' without opposable thumbses they bees unable to recriprocation.

Thus we bugses is replyin' to yous recently letter.

We bugses be appreciate your acknowlegeishness that we is being here before yous. We bees also appreciatin' yous anxiousness not to troddon us-es.

In the spirit of co-operativeness we bugses will be attemptin' to modification us socialise at the specificationly hours yous mentions, but bees askin' yous understandingness if we overstrays at times. You didna bees mentionin' the music but we will bees endeavourin' to keep it within the bounds of respectability voluminous, and not bees havin' 'The Ugly Bug Ball' on repeat moren one night outta six. Anyhow the moths do bees prefer the sountrack to 'Antz'. Wez wonna be involvin' yous in our inter-bugsesatory disputations.

With thankins for yous continues sufferancingness for us first-people-bugses,

Regardnessification,

BugsesInTheBathroom.

P.S. The Snails would be signin' too if they were havin' opposable thumbses.

Discouraging Snails or...

How To Discourage Snails From Hanging Out In One's Kitchen:

Turn the music up loud and play rock- they don't much like rock, too difficult to climb.

Tell them they are not welcome.

Ask them to leave- doesn't generally work, unless your Snailese is better than mine, in which case could you give me a few useful phrases? (Coming soon 'The Berlitz Guide to Snailese'.)

Play Café music, they don't like that either as the coffee grounds scramble their slime paths.

Bring in a rabbit from the field and ask them to race the snails...actually that didn't work so well with the hare and the tortoise, did it?

Tell them to hurry up and get on with whatever they're doing and hope you annoy 'em enough to make 'em leave.

Kidnap them and sell them into slavery to the French Restaurant...guess who's been listening to Joseph and the Technicolour Dreamcoat?

Invite some ducks to tea.


And if all the above fail, evict 'em by throwing them over the wall into the orchard- it discombobulates them, you know?


They even ate the cover of a good novel.

 Any better ideas?