Bit of this

Whippet is horrified by the white covers on sofa and bed at the cottage. I am alarmed and throw a blanket over the sofa and make sure there is a kitchen chair across it at night. He looks dolefully accusing as we refuse him his early morning cuddle and flops down beside the bed sighing. And I use our towels I can't possibly use a white one to dry him off and me too, white should remained un sullied. ( must come from my catholic upbringing, when they talked about purity of the soul, I knew going to confession wouldn't erase all the black blotches that had been incurred).

The gentle roar rolls down the estuary similar to that of the dull hum of a motor-way. I know it's arrival is imminent as a flock of birds swim up river and settle opposite us. Seconds later it continues is steady pace past driving them further on. It fills the main channel then over flows and sloshes up the banks making a lovely sound. The water resembles a rolling boil as it dances in the light before settling. There I have seen it, the severn bore. Now I want to see a really big one.

I take myself to the top of the hill with the cows and watch the sun set and lights in the distance appear. It is so peaceful. This must be off a flight path for I hear no airplanes. Only the call of geese. I am fascinated by the shape of a tree and see the scene as a painting so de focus over expose and snap. Course what it will print like remains to be seen.

Bit of that

I was looking for a poem about a cat, I fail to see the connection, they get ever-so energetic toward the end, tis amazing.