Summer Pests

There’s only one fly in the ointment when it comes to living at Dixon Hill. Actually, make that several hundred flies. Of a sort. Because we’re talking midges!*

For those who dwell in midge-less climes, let me explain. Midges are kind of like mosquitoes…..except they don’t carry the horrible diseases that mosquitoes do. They do, however, hang about in the same vague clouds…..mostly invisible..…and bite in the same nasty way. They particularly like water - especially water underneath trees. And, since a stream runs through our garden and trees overhang it, they think (like me) that this is paradise.

Drat!

No summer gathering is complete without bottles of insect repellent (bug spray) at the ready. Neighbourly conversations of an evening are generally accompanied by flailing arms, vainly attempting to fend off the little blighters.

Truth be told, they haven’t been as bad as usual this year. They prefer still, balmy evenings…..and there haven’t been too many of those. But I think they’ve tired of waiting for the perfect weather to launch their raids on human flesh. Either that or they’re just plain hungry. Because they’ve started to hang around and bite regardless…..clearly determined that a spell of grotty weather won’t keep them from their annual feast (me).



Such minute monsters must serve a purpose in the universe, though I’m baffled as to what it is. But we co-exist at Dixon Hill, the midges and I, because there’s nowhere else we’d rather live.

At least we have that in common. J

*For those unacquainted with these pesky mites, the word is pronounced mi-jeez (with the stress on the first syllable).

Sunday Play

It's been playday here today.

Joss played with a ball...



Nettle played with a tree...



I played with my Lensbaby...



And a good time was had by all!

Puppy Love

I'm playing mum to three adorable, six-week-old bundles of fur this weekend.

I foresee cuddles galore!

Strips and Stripes

I've lost count of how many tractors have passed me on our quiet country road over the last couple of days.  Silaging is in full swing.....

The Cricket Match

There are few sights more evocative of an English summer than the sight of a village cricket match. Few sounds more redolent of summer than the sound of leather on willow.

Of course, to evoke the kind of comfortable British nostalgia that's so synonymous with this game of Empire, the match must - absolutely MUST - be played in whites.

If not, it’s simply not cricket.