In the bluebells

The lawn is no longer a lawn that most people would recognise. It's not strictly a hay meadow either. At the moment it is dominated by the Spanish bluebells that have become more numerous every year. In a month, the bluebells will have died back and the yellow rattle and bitter vetch will dominate. Friends have been ruthlessly eliminating the Spanish bluebells from their gardens in favour of growing the more delicate native ones. Here, it's too late, there's simply too many. And Gus likes to sit amongst them on a sunny day, while the bees bumble from flower to flower.  While deep in the uncut grass, something stirs (see extra).

In the afternoon, I had a call from my most longstanding friend from university, and it was good to hear his news that he and his family are safe and well. It was the rebalancing I needed after earlier exposure to some wild conspiracy theory that left me feeling unsettled and annoyed at the worst aspects of the internet for spreading misinformation and dangerously deluded ideas. Here, in blipland we are mercifully sheltered from that insanity.

Poor Gus had another tummy upset at the end of the day, the result of being fed too many wheat based biscuits by a neighbour. I should have known better than to allow that, as we are normally so careful to give him wheat-free hypoallergenic food.  As I write this, he is better again, his functions returned to normal after the brief upset.

Thank you to everyone for recent comments, stars and hearts. They are very much appreciated, even if at the moment I am struggling to reciprocate.