Dear Diary, The day dawned cool but sunny, and after days of relative inactivity it seemed a perfect day for a bike ride, and a picnic lunch.
Karen is still moping, Niece is busy cooking, and 'the boys' have begun a project in the shed. 'Us girls' have been volubly banned from even peeking through the door. There is hammering, and banging, and lots of talk and laughter echoing around the garden, as Jake and Phil work on whatever it is they are creating. Not a day for me to hang around Dear Diary; I feel like those goldfish must have felt when their bowl was out of water.
Winter is a perfect time for an outing on a cycle. The weather is conducive to a little exercise, and the fresh clear air and sunshine did make the trip pleasurable. I had thought of relenting and taking that lump of a dog with me, but his ability to react in the correct manner to a command quickly made me change my mind. I had visions of cycling along, watching the sights of nature, and that dog rambling into other properties. Much easier to go by oneself, even if I do feel almost sorry for a dog confined to a yard.
Not bothering to make a lunch [Niece was baking and had taken over the kitchen] I stopped off at the little bakery; the same bakery that makes the most wonderful mini apple tarts. I do indulge occasionally, and have been known to take a packet home for a sweet after the main course. Served with custard and cream they are scrumptious.
This morning a warm aroma wafted out onto the street; fresh bread sitting on the counter was too much to resist. Not wanting to make sandwiches I simply popped into the little supermarket and purchased a couple of slices of ham and a tomato. While there was an array of different varieties of bread, some with icing and decorated with coconut, other plaited and filled with a mix of cinnamon and sugar, I decided on a bacon and cheese roll. This particular bakery is obliging and didn't refuse my request for a dab of butter in the middle of the roll.
Thinking that cycling can make one hungry I felt no guilt at the muesli slice I chose as a small treat. A bottle of water completed my meal.
The tricycle is an excellent mode of transport being well balanced with easy pedalling. I am so pleased with the basket on the handlebars ... just the place to store my lunch!
The countryside was green, verdant, with a slight dew when I first set out. As the sun rose in the sky the dew dissipated, and although a slight breeze ruffled the trees, it was a pleasant morning. My destination was beyond a little concrete bridge with sides so low that it felt as though I was riding in the slow moving river. There is a restful glen where an old fallen tree offers a place to sit and contemplate.
I sat. I contemplated.
The magpies warbled. I wondered if I came every day could I teach them a few words, or even a small tune to whistle? Once, many years ago, I heard of a man owing a talking magpie and supposed a lot of patience would be required for such a feat. Dear Diary, I do not need a bird, especially I do not need a magpie as they have a serious reputation of taking shiny articles for their nests. I have never witnessed such actions, and suspect fables arise because some folk do not appreciate the cheek of the black and white birds.
Nearby, sheep called for their lambs; a farmer was busily erecting a fence; and a large lone bull lumbered around a small paddock where he was imprisoned. The sun filtered through the canopy of trees and somehow Dear Diary, I think I must have dozed. When I checked the time on my watch it showed well into the afternoon; time for me to pack up, and pedal back home.
Karen is still moping, Niece is busy cooking, and 'the boys' have begun a project in the shed. 'Us girls' have been volubly banned from even peeking through the door. There is hammering, and banging, and lots of talk and laughter echoing around the garden, as Jake and Phil work on whatever it is they are creating. Not a day for me to hang around Dear Diary; I feel like those goldfish must have felt when their bowl was out of water.
Winter is a perfect time for an outing on a cycle. The weather is conducive to a little exercise, and the fresh clear air and sunshine did make the trip pleasurable. I had thought of relenting and taking that lump of a dog with me, but his ability to react in the correct manner to a command quickly made me change my mind. I had visions of cycling along, watching the sights of nature, and that dog rambling into other properties. Much easier to go by oneself, even if I do feel almost sorry for a dog confined to a yard.
Not bothering to make a lunch [Niece was baking and had taken over the kitchen] I stopped off at the little bakery; the same bakery that makes the most wonderful mini apple tarts. I do indulge occasionally, and have been known to take a packet home for a sweet after the main course. Served with custard and cream they are scrumptious.
This morning a warm aroma wafted out onto the street; fresh bread sitting on the counter was too much to resist. Not wanting to make sandwiches I simply popped into the little supermarket and purchased a couple of slices of ham and a tomato. While there was an array of different varieties of bread, some with icing and decorated with coconut, other plaited and filled with a mix of cinnamon and sugar, I decided on a bacon and cheese roll. This particular bakery is obliging and didn't refuse my request for a dab of butter in the middle of the roll.
Thinking that cycling can make one hungry I felt no guilt at the muesli slice I chose as a small treat. A bottle of water completed my meal.
The tricycle is an excellent mode of transport being well balanced with easy pedalling. I am so pleased with the basket on the handlebars ... just the place to store my lunch!
The countryside was green, verdant, with a slight dew when I first set out. As the sun rose in the sky the dew dissipated, and although a slight breeze ruffled the trees, it was a pleasant morning. My destination was beyond a little concrete bridge with sides so low that it felt as though I was riding in the slow moving river. There is a restful glen where an old fallen tree offers a place to sit and contemplate.
I sat. I contemplated.
The magpies warbled. I wondered if I came every day could I teach them a few words, or even a small tune to whistle? Once, many years ago, I heard of a man owing a talking magpie and supposed a lot of patience would be required for such a feat. Dear Diary, I do not need a bird, especially I do not need a magpie as they have a serious reputation of taking shiny articles for their nests. I have never witnessed such actions, and suspect fables arise because some folk do not appreciate the cheek of the black and white birds.
Nearby, sheep called for their lambs; a farmer was busily erecting a fence; and a large lone bull lumbered around a small paddock where he was imprisoned. The sun filtered through the canopy of trees and somehow Dear Diary, I think I must have dozed. When I checked the time on my watch it showed well into the afternoon; time for me to pack up, and pedal back home.
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