The Further Adventures of Spud the Dog, April 22nd 2013

I’m still here, I had a little bit of business to attend to down in Nottingham last week, then we had, wait for it, something that passed for a pleasant weather for being in the garden. I was so excited. There is much to be done, with everything that happened last autumn, the garden certainly didn’t get to put to bed for what turned out to be a long and harsh winter.

There are cheery little survivors though

  

I was more hindered than helped in my endeavours by Spud the dog and the kitten cats. Spud was impatient  to play ball,

The kitten cats just wanted to be in on the action.

Trashing a neat pile of clippings for the bonfire and spreading them all over the lawn

Spud took the line,

if you can’t beat them join them.

Bdahlia

As a child I could never quite master the word dahlia, I always called them bdahlias, b’s and d’s were never a friend of mine.

My Dad grew lots of dahlias his favourites were  spiky deep crimson varieties, they always remind me of him (and earwigs!). He used to insist each autumn on drying the tubers that he’d lifted from the flower bed (to protect them from frost)  in the airing cupboard. My Mum was never impressed by this intrusion to her line dried laundry!  I snapped these  dahlias in the garden at Chatsworth House on Saturday, I nipped over just in time to capture the penultimate day of the Barry Flanagan sculpture exhibition. More photos to follow.

Tell It To The Trees

We’re still here, the boys and I have been on holiday this week, Mr Uphilldowndale has been dipping in and out of the day job.

It’s been not so much a week of rest and relaxation, more a case of downtime, which was much needed.  Sadly news keeps reaching us of family, friends and colleagues who are, for a host of reasons, not having the best of times at the moment. I’m tempted to think that if I’d been on holiday on a desert island, with nought but a couple of palm trees a hammock and cold drink, a message in a bottle would have washed up on the shore.

It was suggested earlier in the week I should go out and hug a tree, and its true to say some of the most restorative time this week has been spent in the garden.

A good place to count our blessings and breathe…

Spud on Sunday Part LXIXIII

As you can imagine things have been a bit hectic around here of late. It seems, and I’m sure Spud will vouch for this, like an age since he got to have his very own adventure. But he makes the most of it, in that Springer spaniel sort of way, along with a little help from his friends (thanks to Glo  who after last weeks post,  used her creative talents to visualise Spuds  canine dream for us mere humans).

(remember my  fever dream, at the creative hands of Glo?)

Spud likes to muck in with who ever is about and as ‘men and machine’ have been digging for victory in very wet conditions over the last few days, muck is indeed everywhere. Here Spud and Tom check todays progress

(Tom is also able to add to his geology homework by studying what our house is built upon (looking at that clay, it is no wonder the bed shakes like a jelly when anyone slams the back door!)

Spud will always seek a hug, muddy paws and all.

And look, I nearly forgot, Spud took delivery of nine tons of best Derbyshire limestone yesterday. What fun.

would you like to see some more mud?

Spud on Sunday Part LXIXII

Spud the dog has been in high glee today, its a dream come true*

Man and digger has arrived to sort our drains… Oh joy!

For Spud the dog this means the biggest mole hill to dig in that a dog could wish for.

It is going to mean mud everywhere, of that I’m sure.

Mind you, you may notice sheep in the field at moment, if the pile of top soil distracts Spud from rolling in sheep poo, it’s no bad thing, top soil smell sweeter.

*It’s a dream come true for us too, we’ve been expecting arrival of  man and digger since spring!

Waterlogged

A brief respite today, I had an hour or so to realise just how wayward the garden is and just how sodden it is too. I rather like the spiral in the centre of this flower, I’m remembering an enjoyable day at the Eden Project 

An hour was sufficient time to realise that I’ve surrendered  any control of the garden, nature will take its course, I’ve not the time, the stamina or the weather to make a silk purse from a sows ear.  I can only dream of a tamed garden.

Here, There and Not Quite Everywhere; Yet

We’ve been bouncing around the country like a pinball this week, the trusty family estate car (station wagon) clawing through the miles*, since the wedding in Oxford last weekend, destinations have included, Aberystwyth which is as difficult to get to as it is to spell, London, Manchester, Bakewell, Matlock and Bangor. And it’s not over yet, Stirling and two trips to Manchester have still to be chalked up this week.  Whilst we’ve had some rainy trips, we’ve managed to avoid the worst of the flooding that has blighted great swathes of the country, it is all to do with the Jet Stream apparently

At dusk tonight Spud  the dog and I went out for a spot of bat watching, no hope of capturing them on camera I’m afraid  they are too swift and agile for me to manage anything other than admiring them.

Another summer evening pleasure to my mind is the scent of the garden, however this year, to my nose the honeysuckle’s perfume seems rather diluted by the lack of good weather,

but closer inspection of an image taken with flash shows that as far as insects are concerned the honeysuckle is as attractive as ever.

*We tried to travel by train, but the cost of fares and scheduling of trains put the mockers on that plan.

Wash Out

June has been something of a wash out*, great if you are a  hosta munching slug or snail though.

This snail made an early morning slither across on my window. Lovely.

* We are thankful not to have had the floods that have troubled many parts of the country though.

Spud on Sunday Part LXXVII

Ball games versus a good read

Joe took himself of to the shade of the oak tree this afternoon, for a good read. Spud the dog had other ideas.

He wanted to play ball, he all ways wants to play ball.

Here are Spuds thoughts

If I  stand here and stare at the ball long enough he’s bound to get the idea and throw it.

I could lick his toes, that always gets attention.

If I dig a hole, maybe that would work, especially if it get at mum’s bluebells; getting told off is better than being ignored, don’t you think?

I’ll try the cute ‘tickle my tum’ posture

OK, OK,  so that didn’t work I’ll try staring again 

I wonder what time Tom gets back from work?

I do hope he won’t be long *sigh*. Tom’s always willing to play ball, he likes hitting balls I like fetching balls. They say we have a symbiotic relationship.

Viewers may notice Spud is wearing his ‘Lycra fit’ summer coat. I  can tell you we had a ‘bad parenting’ moment at the dog groomers, fleas. Oh dear.

Do pop over to  The Pink Underbelly and have a look at the most charming child and pet photos you are going to see in a long time. A joy.

Spud on Sunday Part LXXI

Spuds idea of help in the garden,

 

this dog has no respect for my flowerbeds, which is why I have a tulip in a bud vase on my desk, salvaged from Spuds rampage through the the borders.

Of course he’d tell you that ‘butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth’!

 

Edit, from Glo, a very special  Easter Spud on Sunday, thank you Glo!