Armistice Day 2015

Thinking of the fallen ... 

Return of my furry nemesis ...

Last weekend I decided that it was time to dust off all my bird-feeding kit, get it all tanked up with birdie tucker and back in the trees. It's not been desperately cold or anything like that, but it just felt like it was time to get the winter-feeders back in action. And I have to admit that it's not an entirely altruistic activity: I get a huge kick out of seeing all the little critters who come to my back garden for dinner.

Angel wings and Christmas cakes ...

Mr B and Emi have been away wargaming this weekend. Whilst they've been busy commanding their Dacian troops against Trajan's Roman Legions the Wonder Dog and I have been keeping ourselves busy back at base.

In truth it's beginning to feel a bit like Christmas ... . I know, I know: shoot me now for mentioning the dreaded C-word so early in November! But, the thing is, if you're planning on making a Chrimbo cake you really need to get cracking now or it'll be too late to feed it the requisite amount of alcohol to achieve that perfect level of boozy, fruity unctuousness by the Big Day.

Yesterday I spent the morning baking my cakes. I used my old, tried and tested recipe, which you can find here: Boozy Bejewelled Christmas Cake. The house smelt divine with that wonderful fruity, buttery, spicy smell that comes from fruit cakes baking slowly in the oven. Yum!

The Green Man in autumn ... a tale of renewal and rebirth ...

The other day I was wandering through the beech wood close to my parents' house admiring the wonderful colour of the leaves when it struck me that the Green Man of our pre-Christian mythology would have felt just a little bit uncomfortable with all these seasonal changes. He always seems to be depicted in his full-summer garb with green leaves in their prime.

Perspective ...

“And those who were seen dancing, were thought to be crazy, by those who could not hear the music.”

― Friedrich Nietzsche

The other day I was busy taking photographs of the world from the perspective of a daisy. A man walked by, and looked at me in that pitying, somewhat superior way people do when they think you’re a bit simple. I passed no remarks. I knew what I was about, and I didn’t need his affirmation.

This is what the chap, who thought he’d got an edge over the mad bird with the camera, missed. He didn’t see the dewdrops condensing on the blades of grass as the late autumn sun melted the fog off the lawn. Viewed from the perspective of the daisy it looked like a lush jungle dusted with diamonds. I wonder, if he’d paused to look, would he have heard the music?

All the best for now,

 Bonny x