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Spring is Sprung

That earlier post about pitch put me in a linguistic glitch.

Do drips drip and drops drop? Or drips drop and drops drip?

It all sounds wrong and looks funny on the page after a very short time indeed. Anyway Spring does indeed spring, but today, on the evening dog walk, I found evidence that it has also sprung. I am not convinced the sunny days and freezing nights are particularly conducive to tree blossom, but nature is giving it a good old go like the old broad she is, with blowsy, fuzzy leaf buds busting out all over.

This my eldest daughter’s favourite tree in the park. It’s quite nice that she has one.

The dog had the wind up his tail on the walk, spring has got him sprung too, although he did mention it was a bit parky to go naked (I had forgotten to put his coat on). A little girl in her pushchair asked her mum as we wended homeward, ‘Why has that doggie got so much legs?’ I am too deaf to have heard the answer, but had some mild amusement to think of the eight-legged beast on the end of my lead.

Anyway, here’s the evidence that spring has finally sprung from it’s winter irons:
an evening magnolia

magnolia

magnolia close

Bedraggled Spring

The rain has bedraggled just about anything and everything recently, so much so, if there was any spring, I’ve missed it.

It was good to look up today and see these fellas in the park. Ok, they were a little wan and shy, as if they had no business being there but, I am sure, if the sun ever pitches itself into the sky again, they’ll soon be acting as if they own the place. I can’t wait. And, specifically, I can’t wait to the tune of ‘Reelin’ in the Years’ by Steely Dan.

Today

By Lee Welton (Flickr)

the tail end of autumn leaves whipped up like a small eddy on a low gust of wind; briefly lifting them up and twirling around before they went to ground, the under-the-radar breeze vanishing as quickly as it came…

All by the bandstand.

What Thoreau said

I had three pieces of limestone on my desk, but I was terrified to find that they required to be dusted daily, when the furniture of my mind was all undusted still, and threw them out of the window in disgust.

How, then, could I have a furnished house? I would rather sit in the open air, for no dust gathers on the grass, unless where man has broken ground.

From ‘Walden’

Today’s walk

Involved Rudi treating the park like his own back garden, so no chance of shots of said lurcher in the snow. Whilst the kids and I were prancing about trying to catch the little bugger I saw these. I do a like a distressed half-dead flower, the bird was an accident. I wish I had taken the proper camera now as this was a phone job.

A Series of Alarming Events

Yesterday started ok. Cold, but not as icy as the day before, although that could have been because I put on a ridiculous striped woolly hat for the morning trot with the dog. Said dog behaved impeccably until he found himself left near a shrubbery into which he vanished. Somehow he ended up on the even more impeccable bowling green where snipping and manicuring was taking place. I had to climb over the fence, walk across the green with a fake sense of purpose and have him pointedly ignore me before vanishing off again. My friend was smart enough to position herself around a corner at an exit point onto the road into the park. He eventually hoved into view thundering past me with his finessed bollocks to you sort of look, but then stopped dead in shame when he met her round the corner. Better than being stopped dead by a car. Git.

This partially conspired to make me 10 minutes late for my first meeting in one place, which morphed into 15 minutes late for the next in another. Behind by a whopping 30 minutes when I finally got to work, the snowballing time lag ended up added another 30 minutes to my own deficit. Losing a whole hour is pretty slack – I’m hoping to retrieve it the weekend after next.

Having lost an hour, I had a pile of stuff to do workwise at home after the school run, so I was pretty annoyed when this loud car or house alarm started going off and broke my concentration. I got the youngest to turn down the tv to see where it might be coming from; we decided it was down the road. In the end it went on so long I told her to turn the tv up and I put my headphones in. Lucky then I heard the doorbell. I went to the door in a bit of a huff and said to my neighbour who had summoned me that this alarm going off for so long was a sodding nuisance.

And, this I am afraid is completely true, he said to me: it’s your alarm.

Whereupon I think he was expecting me to say something along the lines of oh silly me, I’ll turn it off. What I said was: well it shouldn’t be going off because it doesn’t work. He clearly thought I was crazy, so he came in to check that the control pad was indeed dead, which it is because having never had the alarm code the executive decision was taken to snip the wires to it ages ago.

So like Rudi being caught in shame round the corner by one neighbour this morning, I was now trapped in my own yard in total humiliation because it turns out my house alarm is the worst noise known to man, I didn’t twig it was mine until someone came round to tell me and, even then, I couldn’t turn it off.

I suggested smashing it up with a big stick, but the neighbour is a proper tradesman and he fetched a long ladder which he went up. He then came back down and fetched a screwdriver with which he might have felt like rapping me over the knuckles at the very least for useless articleness, but being gracious he went back up the ladder and managed to make the noise stop. A pity he couldn’t do the same for the usual cacophony in my head, some of which ends up here. There’s loads that don’t!

A nice genteel spot for a tear-up innit