Sweet Smell of Spring

There's a fine brownish haze on the meadow its not from corn as high an elephant's eye but thickly laid excrement aka slurry. The meadow is due north, just beyond the old Glebe field and a soft northern wind is wafting in a sweet aroma, which once into your nostrils tends to stay there like Tom Cat territory marking fluid.And with a northerly airstream forecast for the next few days, the music may die but the melody will linger on. And on.

In the meanwhile the in house mouses are already, it seems, starting their preparations for a long cold summer. I had wondered why the wife's store of nuts for No 6 bird feeder was so depleted. The Mices, presumably worried about the possible effects of global financial meltdown have filled the feet of two pairs of wellies with luscious brown (the colour of the month) peanuts. Very full. This has involved them climbing up two shelves of the boot rack,then up the boots, depositing a nut or two and then climbing down again, back into the kitchen for more, and so on. Who says Mouses have no work ethic?

A neighbouring cynic does. He wonders if a three year old visiting granddaughter
might have, if left unattended, done this job. Perhaps indulging herself in a game of imagination and terror? Here we go hiding Nuts in March? An unworthy thought, Sir. A granddaughter of mine! Come on.

I prefer to blame the Meece.

I apologise for the quality of the telephoto image of the Slurry Spreader with the Tractor in Front. Without anti-biological warfare kit ot was impossible to get nearer. Click to see picture in full horrorscope

Labels: Mice. Slurry, Old Manse, Rural smells

  ¶ 10:31 AM