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Losing touch with reality and planting marigolds

Dare I whisper that the sun is shining and summer is skipping into view. *

Or with those fourteen words have I condemned us to shivering defiantly in our seasonally-compatible if weather-inappropriate clothes braced on holiday against summer winds and showers of rain? Please note I didn't conjure up gales and torrents - I might be a bit of a pessimist but that would be glugging down the entire glass rather than leaving it half empty. To be a pessimist is, after all, to be pleasantly surprised when things turn out better. Perhaps the summer will too. Turn out better I mean.

I hope so.

So does Bertie Baggins.

Or is he laughing at me? - 'Thinks it's possible to jinx the weather now? Definitely lost the plot.'

Or am I anthropomorphising a wee bit too much? I mean: dogs don't really smile - do they?

Or look disdainful ...

Narrowed eyes, mouth shut in a bored harrumph. Why? ...

... 'Gardening! Again!! You said it would be how long before our walk?!'

Ho hum ... Yes, Bertie Baggins, gardening is indeed happening - again - today. And will probably happen tomorrow. And the next day.

Because in anticipation of a sun drenched summer, I have planted up some pots. Last year, I had red and white geraniums. This year, I opted for yellow and orange marigolds, the latter deeply-hatched with stripes of blood-red. Very 'hot sun.'

Also osteospermums

and carnations

As hinted above, while I enjoy planting-up pots to brighten the garden's darker corners and create the Mediterranean in a sun-trap spot that I dream of sitting in but never find sufficient minutes to do so, Bertie Baggins and Four-legged-friend do not. At all.

They do though get the sitting bit. And it doesn't take long before a sitting, bored dog is a lying, bored dog.

The sun is shining. The concrete pavers are warm. Watching gardening is just so very, very boring. The food bowls are empty. That stray won't be back in a hurry. The jumpy postman has been already.

And the rabbits are hiding.

Maybe, lolling on the grass, adopting an entirely non-threatening 'look we've been shot' pose, will encourage them to spring back out of their holes and bounce into the radii of our bunny-sensitive noses.

Best not to actually sleep. Best to keep one eye open. Scanning the hedge. Watching for the first flicker and twitch of silky bunny ears.

Alternatively, when rabbit surveillance - about as thrilling as watching gardening happen - loses its appeal ...

the 'hard Paddington stare' is next in the repertoire of attention seeking expressions. It's blunt. Unequivocally laden with serious intent. It means business.

'Look at me when I'm talking to you!'

... 'have you finished yet?  Perhaps you might recall that being the owner of four legs means that I need a little more exercise than is expended by trailing round after your two-legged gardening exploits. I expect a walk to follow. Shortly!'

* P.S. Looks like the blame is all mine - absolutely jinxed it. Sorry.


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