Essence of Maine Coon
It's almost a year now since fate decided to start flinging pooh at me like a badly behaved monkey. A week today will mark the anniversary of Buddug's untimely death. I thought it would perhaps be a little maudlin to mark the actual day with a post, though I still miss her terribly. And in a week's time I'm going to be in Aberdeen anyway, trying not to lower the tone too much as a certain bearded writist celebrates the publication of his fifth novel.
So what has prompted this sudden reminiscence, I hear you ask. Either that or it's those damned voices again. I do wish they'd shut up sometimes. Whispering away the whole time like naughty schoolkids. Damn them and their all-too-believable conspiracies.
But I digress. See how distracting they are.
As those of you with long memories might recall, we buried Buddug in the pouring rain and at the bottom of the garden, and planted a Victoria Plum on top of her - Buddug being the Welsh for Victoria, according to some dictionaries. It even managed to produce one edible plum. Well, on Monday this week, to glorious unseasonal sunshine, Buddug's plum tree burst into flower.
The garden's starting to look a bit tidier now, with most of the old trees gone and the enormous bonfire pile burned down to a heap of ash, filled with old iron bedsprings, rusty hinges and a lot of nails. That's going to have to be sifted well before it's dug into the beds.
We've planted the three small apple trees that followed us down from the old house alongside Buddug's plum in a row sheltered by the boundary wall. They're beginning to show signs of impending blossom, but will no doubt be at their best next week when we're away. The plum though is quite magnificent, in its small way, and Monday's gorgeous sunshine brought out the botanical photographer in me.
The daffodils are mostly finished in the garden now, but we're awash with Bluebells, though these are the Spanish variety, lovingly planted by the mad old lady who used to live here, and will have to be all dug up and burnt. There's also rather too much Honesty for my liking, but at least it's pretty.
The lawn under the old apple trees has been colonised by both blue and white Forget-Me-Nots, and there's even a couple of hardy Tulips showing off their blousyness, all of which goes some way toward chasing off the winter blues.
But I still miss my cat.
So what has prompted this sudden reminiscence, I hear you ask. Either that or it's those damned voices again. I do wish they'd shut up sometimes. Whispering away the whole time like naughty schoolkids. Damn them and their all-too-believable conspiracies.
But I digress. See how distracting they are.
As those of you with long memories might recall, we buried Buddug in the pouring rain and at the bottom of the garden, and planted a Victoria Plum on top of her - Buddug being the Welsh for Victoria, according to some dictionaries. It even managed to produce one edible plum. Well, on Monday this week, to glorious unseasonal sunshine, Buddug's plum tree burst into flower.
The garden's starting to look a bit tidier now, with most of the old trees gone and the enormous bonfire pile burned down to a heap of ash, filled with old iron bedsprings, rusty hinges and a lot of nails. That's going to have to be sifted well before it's dug into the beds.
We've planted the three small apple trees that followed us down from the old house alongside Buddug's plum in a row sheltered by the boundary wall. They're beginning to show signs of impending blossom, but will no doubt be at their best next week when we're away. The plum though is quite magnificent, in its small way, and Monday's gorgeous sunshine brought out the botanical photographer in me.
The daffodils are mostly finished in the garden now, but we're awash with Bluebells, though these are the Spanish variety, lovingly planted by the mad old lady who used to live here, and will have to be all dug up and burnt. There's also rather too much Honesty for my liking, but at least it's pretty.
The lawn under the old apple trees has been colonised by both blue and white Forget-Me-Nots, and there's even a couple of hardy Tulips showing off their blousyness, all of which goes some way toward chasing off the winter blues.
But I still miss my cat.
Comments
We had a plum tree in my front yard that actually produced a ton of fruit...Which was a very odd thing to see as far North in Canada as we live.
Her plum tree is very beautiful.