Fantasia

When I saw mushrooms like these in the bos last year I got very excited. According to Wikipedia, they are now found all over the world, but I had never seen them except in photos and of course, way back, in Walt Disney’s Fantasia. To me, they seem very exotic.

I was trying to get a better photo when another dogwalker approached. Rusty leaped up to say hello, decapitating the ’shrooms with his leash.

There were more a little further along the path.

Neighborhood Watch

What?

Summer’s end

Summer is over. In mid-August, we went away for a week, and when we returned we had sunny days but they were cooler and the light was changing. I like it when the light changes  and the air feels different, but the changing of the season—any season—is bittersweet to me.

The humans in the family went to London, where we drank cider and ale; ate fish and chips,  hamburgers, and chicken-and-leek pie; and walked a lot. We saw a Welsh terrier at the Portobello Road antiques market, where we added a fox terrier with an interesting facial expression to our dog collection, and I caught the briefest glimpse of an Airedale from the bus on our way back from the Freud Museum.

When we went to London, Rusty went to Roma, where he had an excellent time. (A rough—very rough—translation of Roma’s site is here.) But when the week was over, we were all glad to be  back home together.

It’s raining

“Make it stop, Mom!”

Another successful day

On our midday walk today we saw some greylag geese

and some interesting fungi

and Rusty went swimming

and then we came home and put our feet up.

Ahhh, this is the good life!

Flindertown

Our everyday route takes us past some small allotments that are, I think, like the community gardens in US cities. Most of them are hidden behind hedges or walls, but one gardener has made a flindertuin (butterfly garden) for all to enjoy.  Flinder is pronounced like “blender” and tuin like “town.”

I’m a bad blogger

I can’t believe how fast the time goes. Most of our days, Rusty’s and mine, are the same—big walks punctuated by naps and meals. Other than taking care of Rusty, vacuuming (because of Rusty), and getting dinner on the table, I’m not accomplishing much these days. You know what? I don’t care! I have no ambition.

Young coots

You don’t hear much about young coots, but they’re not born old, you know. These guys are a lot younger than the other waterfowl born this spring. It’s hard to be sure, because we have a lot of coots and I can’t tell them apart, but on the basis of my observations I think this mama coot had three chicks at about the same time as the ducks and geese but lost them all, then rebuilt her nest and laid more eggs. Here she is watching her chicks from a distance.

I seem to remember from last year that they no longer use the nest after the chicks are swimming on their own. Or maybe this heron just takes advantage of the coot’s nest while she’s away. Maybe this is the dingo that ate her babies! People have told me they’ve seen herons eat baby birds, rabbits, and other animals in addition to fish.

I guess we’re pretty lucky to live where we do.

Stalking the Wild Puppy Dog

If you look closely  you can see Rusty among the rhododendrons. I would have loved to play in this tangle of trunks when I was a child, imagining myself a princess fleeing from enemies into the forest. I wonder what Rusty is thinking when he runs around in there?