Wren and Finch are big fans of carbohydrates. They would live entirely on bread, potatoes and pasta if they could. Finch’s potato passion reached new heights with this season’s jersey royals so he was utterly disgusted when we made a potato salad with some last week. “Why are the potatoes dirty?” he asked prodding the mayonnaise dressing with disgust. Needless to say all ‘dirt’ had to be wiped off the potatoes before he would touch them. What a relief to find potato perfection was still there under all that awful creamy stuff!
We also lost Wren’s hat last week. Flying across the park, late for school pick-up as usual, we only discovered its loss once we got to school, so we all kept our eyes peeled on the return leg. It was Little Owl who spotted it. In the middle of one of the big grassy patches danced a very drunk man with Wren’s flowery sun hat balanced on his head. Arms outstretched, hands gracefully curved he bobbed a slow waltz in the sunshine, the velcro straps gently tapping his ears.
“Ummmm excuse me,” I began nervously and hoped he wouldn’t turn nasty. “I think you might have my baby’s hat.” He turned sharply on his heel, pulling Wren’s hat off his head, clutching it to his bare chest.
“Yes, yes, I do!” he exclaimed joyfully. “I was looking after it! I saw it on a rock and thought no one will ever see it there but if I dance around here a bit with it, whoever lost it will definitely see it.” With a flourish he returned the hat to Wren. I wouldn’t have been at all surprised if he’d bowed low to the ground and added, “Your servant my lady.” We gave the hat a good wash when we got home but it’s nice to know you can count on the local characters to take care of your lost property.
My Dad likes to take a “stroll around the block” of an evening. I think that’s an interesting expression because a “block” is an American term. We don’t really have blocks here do we? My Granddad on my Dad’s side had a florist’s shop in New York for a while so I had wondered if that’s how the expression had come to be part of my Dad’s parlance. When I voiced this thought to my in-laws they said that their parents often used the phrase and it probably came from watching American movies. So much for my theory. Nevertheless, going for a stroll around the block is something I often find myself yearning to do of a dimpsy Devon evening, and I wondered if I might use it to explore the beating the bounds idea a bit more.
It has been so hot here. All the doors and windows of the house are flung wide open. Wren sleeps in just her nappy but only fitfully. She wakes up grumpy, her curls plastered to the back of her neck. At the weekend we paddled in a cool lake on Dartmoor, and admired banks of purple foxgloves down shady woodland paths.
Ladybirds hibernate over winter, wake up, mate and then lay their eggs. I had noticed these funny little black and red beetley creatures (see the first pic above) but didn’t know that this is what baby ladybirds look like! And I didn’t know that their absolute favourite thing to eat is an aphid! It was only when they started attaching themselves by one end to various leaves and the garden gate that I realised they were all slowly turning into ladybirds! Here’s one, well on its way. I think it will be a seven-spot. I wonder how long this cycle has been happening? Ladybird parents eye up the maple in late summer, thinking to themselves, that’ll be covered in aphids next spring, I’ll just have a little kip here then nip down and lay my eggs nearby when the time comes. Lo and behold the aphids turn up, the baby ladybirds hatch and feast away, the maple breathes a hearty thanks, the baby ladybirds grow up to be ladybird parents, and so it goes on.
My Dad has a conspiracy theory about microwaves. It goes like this. Whichever way he puts his mug of coffee into the microwave, it always finishes with the mug handle turned away from him when he goes to get it out. He has tested this theory on numerous appliances and it is always the case. Move over terrorists, microwaves are the new threat undermining our way of life and blighting elevenses everywhere!
Rain is gently tip-tapping on the window this morning. In the garden a
In the hedgerows I can see greater stitchwort, field roses and elderflowers. I spotted a bright pink vetchling tangled up with 
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Finch got some new pyjamas this week. He was so pleased with them that he got up in the night and put all three sets on, on top of each other. He was roasting when we went to wake him up in the morning. There are lots of yellow irises flowering along the river, beautiful golden spears, tall and exotic. My rambling roses are blooming and the bees are busy visiting the chives. After a week of non-stop rain the forecast is for sun! At long last summer might be here…just in time for May half term.
Wren fell into the toy box like a sky diver this week; head first, arms back. All I could see was a pair of legs back-pedaling frantically. She also attempted to eat a ladybird. We’ve had loads of ladybirds in our house recently and I have spent a significant amount of my time collecting them from the landing window sill and putting them outside. I’m guessing they’ve been hibernating around the house and have all suddenly woken up. The unfortunate one that went in Wren’s mouth was hurrying along the kitchen floor when she spotted him. He obviously realised he’d been clocked because he stopped stock still, but it was too late. She’s at that stage where absolutely everything goes in her mouth so a ladybird was no exception. By the time I’d leapt over to her all I could do was fish the poor thing out with my finger but he was a goner.
The swifts are back! They have been screeching loudly as they swerve and swoop over our heads. Little Owl and I went on an early morning outing with our local Wildlife Trust on Sunday to hear the dawn chorus. It was a real trauma dragging ourselves out of bed at 4am I can tell you, but totally worth it. We zipped up our body warmers and slipped out into the dark, silent streets. Little Owl was thrilled to be out on such an early morning escapade. She was in charge of the torch and its beam bobbed about merrily as she skipped along the pavement.
