Blenheim Palace: an exquisite tonic.

Having dropped in to see my doctor on Tuesday and asking him to find a pulse, he informed me that my blood pressure has hit the roof from stress. I must immediately find a work-life balance according to him. Ha, ha. Perhaps I should have asked him to marry me straight away if only he would promise that I could finally have a rest and spend the rest of my life reclining on sable rugs and sipping champagne while draped in priceless diamonds and little else. Anyway, after snapping myself out of a pointless fantasy and having checked my blood pressure maniacally over 48 hours, I then felt courageous enough to drive down to Blenheim Palace, birthplace of Winston Churchill and home of the Duke of Marlborough. Exquisite! Priceless antiques, baroque architecture and the spoils of the family's exploits over several hundred years. I enjoyed my day and feel restored and ignoring my health worries for now.

Detail on a Roman sarcophagus, Blenheim Palace. Photo copyright SvD.

The most beautiful countryside.

Having bounced around the world, I've  learned to be still. Having gone through every bad experience you can imagine, I've learned to understand what is good. Walk. Think. These are ways of giving thanks in silence. This vista on my evening walk today fills me with gratitude. Peace.

Photo copyright SvD.

Perception is everything.

Is this an aerial view of a dense forest in some unspoilt part of the world? No. It's the oxygenators, those plants which oyxgenate the water in a pond so that the fish will not go belly up. Can you spot the blue dragonfly? You thought it was a forest. See how our perception keeps us away from the truth? Believe what you want, see what you want, think what you want but never lose sight of the dragonfly and when you blink he'll  be gone.

Photo copyright SvD.

Love is the answer.

On my walk this morning.

Photo copyright SvD.

The path to understanding.

Kundera wrote about the pathway to understanding being a straight line. I have been much derided in my life for planting things in straight lines. So here's Mr Badger tonight hoovering up grubs and surprise, surprise, there's his little trail as he goes through the clover: in a straight bloody line. And they called me stupid.

Photos copyright SvD.

Mr Badger goes walkabout.

I worry about this badger as he has decided he's not nocturnal at all. We frequently cross paths early morning and evening. I know where he lives. He doesn't seem to mind either the hound or I and will simply puff himself up and hiss if the hound gets too close. Luckily, the geriatric hound poses no threat and responds to my effing and blinding, returning promptly to my side. This badger is juvenile and I used to see him chattering to his sibling while sitting on the mound of their set. I fear his sibling is dead as badger baiting is practiced in these parts. I hope not because I like badgers and this one is quite a sweet little thing and I am hoping we shall get to know each other (and he shall stop hissing at me). Photos and video taken last evening as I walked the hound.

 

Photos and video copyright SvD. The video quality is not very good as I made it on my 'phone and transferred it to the blog but had to reduce it somewhat. Apologies.

How to live and How to eat.

To the horror of my guests, I ate snails at my wedding reception while they had to settle for chicken breasts stuffed with pistachios. The marriage didn't last but my love of snails did. I remain particularly fond of the little blighters especially when a crusty home-made bread and a merlot accompany them. Mix parsley finely chopped with lots of garlic and far too much butter, a splash of cognac, sea salt and freshly ground pepper. Bake in a very hot oven (220 degrees C) until bubbling. PS This is not my recipe but classic ESCARGOTS A LA BOURGUIGNONNE. Worry about tomorrow tomorrow. My idea of happiness.

Photos copyright SvD.

Make hay while the sun shines.

The neighbouring farm slaughtered their lambs and for the past six weeks has allowed the grass to grow in the field where once the ewes and lambs lived. Tonight the farmer is cutting the grass which he will leave to dry in the field for a few days and then he will make bales of hay to store in hangars over Winter.  The farmer needs to be assured of a good dry spell otherwise the hay will rot and won't keep over the Winter months.

Today in London moped muggers were raiding luxury stores. The thieves must be congratulating themselves on their easy pickings. Elsewhere in our green and pleasant land, a farmer is still at work at 19h15 as I write this and if he doesn't  diligently plan to make hay he will have nothing to feed  his animals in the Winter. There's a lesson in there for the moped muggers, that is if they can read.

Photo copyright SvD.

'I've lost me mum!'

There is an expression in Latin that the mother determines the destiny of a child (hence the reason we blame our parents for f.... g up our lives). I was reminded as I found this fledgling probably out learning to fly on his mum's instructions and trying to go incognito from the hound and I as we walked past tonight and what was really going through his mind was 'Where's mum? Help!'. I hope this little mite found his mum and she taught him how to fly. I still wish I had a mum.

Photos copyright  SvD.

The Mysterious Clover

Clover grows wild where I live and only once have I ever found a four-leaf clover (in twenty years!). Clover seems to grow in straight lines and will run all around the periphery of a field. I often marvel at the design on the leaves......Although all the leaves appear identical, they are not. Look closely. A good lesson of how nature can't clone itself.

Photo copyright SvD.