Singin' the Blues ...

If you're over a certain age, you may well have a wee earworm starting up with the title of this - are we talking late '50s here? These fabulous blue pine cones are in Benmore Gardens, though the label telling the name of the tree was too far embedded behind the prickly branches for me to reach it. And I'm going to include a blue extra as well - my meconopsis again, now onto its second and third blooms, while the petals of the first lie speedily disappearing on the ground. You can see the segments of the flower casing balanced on the leaf below the newly-opened, still-crumpled bloom.

This afternoon felt chilly enough to be November, but we paused to watch a red squirrel at its tea, surrounded by a cloud of midges (the squirrel had his cloud, we had ours). We were furious when a very small dog that we'd seen earlier appeared inside the sheltered and fenced-off area where the squirrels feed; it was clearly interested in chasing the one we'd been watching. Its hapless owners were elsewhere in the garden - we'd heard them calling and clearly they hadn't a clue where the creature was. There used to be a notice on the gate saying all dogs had to be kept on a lead, but it seems to have gone. I yelled at them instead. 

Truly, I am becoming very grumpy in my old age. But free-running dogs are a blight in these parts ...