Country Pastimes.

I return from an abortive visit to the Garden Centre with nothing except a bag of freshly made sugared ring doughnuts.  This in spite of my avowed intention at the beginning of the weekend (when I was replete after a supper of fish and chips) to cut down radically on food intake to combat a noticeably thickening waistline.  The sweet warm aroma wafting enticingly from the strategically-placed kiosk between the shop door and my car had proved irresistable!

John and I sit down in the hot sunshine and tuck into our feast.  The rural scene is idyllic. A honey-coloured cat stalks gracefully along the fence by the paddock, butterflies flutter amongst the late flowering nasturtiums, caterpillars lazily make their way up the warm wall (going where?), and the herd of cows contentedly grazing in the pasture beyond suddenly stampede in single file before stopping, settling, then lying down to rest after such uncharacteristic exertion.

Then a distant spluttering engine-noise adds a soundtrack to the picture.   An old farm tractor is busy in the far field, towing an interestingly-shaped trailer.   As we watch the toy-like tractor wending its way about the field, we notice that from time to time it stops, and the trailer tosses out from its innards a large bundle of grass - John remarks that it is like watching a birth, whilst I (who have never, unlike him, seen a birth) murmur that it looks more like it's doing a poo!   This happens over and over again, so that soon there are large hay bales scattered all over the field.  We find ourselves riveted by this unexpected lunchtime entertainment.   Then a second red tractor appears from stage right, towing a wierdly fascinating piece of equipment, which scoops up each bale, and spins it round in the air for some time, gradually covering it with shiny black plastic, before unceremoniously flipping it out, when it bounces on the grass before rolling gently to a halt.  Soon the far field looks like a calm greenish sea, with shiny buoys glinting in the sunshine.  The tractors and their equipment disappear, and our lunchtime entertainment has come to an end.

                                You can just about make out the shiny blobs in the far field.

Such are the simple pleasures of living our declining years in the midst of the Somerset countryside.  Indeed we appreciate it all the more having both had London (or more particularly) London Suburban childhoods, where we had small back gardens overlooked by rows of houses.   Here our vista is constantly changing, and there is always something new to take our interest.    Hard to believe that recently I looked from the kitchen towards the hall door to see a  glossy bright pheasant gazing intently at me.     I dashed for my camera as he wandered amongst the greenery outside our sitting room window, watched lazily by his very drearily coated ladyfriend.     They stayed fussing around for a good half hour before disappearing through the hedge - but their visit really made our day.

Lastly I have to include this picture of the hollyhocks which seem to have self-seeded in our garden, and have flowered for weeks, the blossoms slowly moving up the long stems which have successfully survived high winds and lashing rain.    One of them has grown considerably taller than I am - which John was keen to put on record, though I have to say they are now  really gangly, and almost flowerless so do NOT look their best.

Tractors, pheasants, and hollyhocks .... hardly material for a blog, but strangely fascinating.

(Later this same day......)

We had a further diversion whilst enjoying our Sunday evening meal - what should turn up in the far field but a piece of mechanism rather like a dinosaur - it had a long ugly neck, and it proceeded amongst the shiny black hay bales, steadily getting each one in its sights, then moving towards it and clasping it between iron jaws.   Once having grasped its victim it raced towards a waiting platform, and offloaded its prey.  One by one, each of the helpless parcels were scooped up and piled on top of each other, till they resembled, from this distance, a very modern black-glass edifice.     We scarcely had time to admire this rather spectacular structure,  than the monster returned, and hooking itself up to the platform, proceeded to race off with its plunder shimmering in its wake.

All this happened as the sun moved low in the sky, painting the whole scene in warmest yellow, giving the grazing cattle a very burnished appearance, and creating a setting where it seemed scarcely possible that such carnage had so recently taken place.