Confessions of a dogsitter
High summer and the land is dry. I have had many opportunities in the past few days to observe it, hence I can make all pronouncements with regard to moisture, or in this case the lack of it, with confidence.
Our local fire unit was called out twice last week. Small roadside grass fires that could have become larger ones if left to the wind.
At this point in time everything looks spent and seedy but then one forgets these things from year-to-year. Seasons are a constant surprise – a bit like giving birth really.
One forgets the pain.
My life has been reorganised and revitalised
A small dog by the name of Flic is responsible for the mayhem that used to be my relatively orderly existence – admittedly punctuated by the odd flight of fancy but nevertheless fairly restrained in a middle-age-ish sort of way.
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