Sunday, August 11, 2019
A Routine Day
After our day of rough, gusty weather yesterday, I count only 19 caterpillars on our ragwort. I counted 29 just a few days ago! Hopefully the others are still around and will find their way back to the plants -- I've looked around the base but don't see any obvious stragglers. Again, nature taking its course.
I also had to stake up our red-hot pokers -- one of them was broken off by the wind -- and some of the other plants got pretty battered. Our cardoon's heavy flower heads were bent so low they were practically brushing the ground.
Afterwards, I took Olga for a romp in the cemetery. I heard the turaco but I didn't see it this time -- it was in a different stand of trees.
Otherwise, we had a very quiet day around here. I finished the book "American Bloomsbury," by Susan Cheever, about the astonishing group of writers all living in Concord, Mass. in the mid-1800s (Emerson, Hawthorne, Thoreau and the Alcotts, all of whom knew each other well). It was an interesting read. There was a lot of drama, as you'd expect with a bunch of smart people in a small community.
Finally, last night I watched the movie "Hampstead" with Diane Keaton. It was filmed in Hampstead and on the Heath, so it was interesting to see the streets and wooded areas where Olga and I often walk immortalized (and Hollywoodized). It's a good little movie, if a bit twee.
(Photo: A shop window in Rye on Thursday. They may not have arms, but by golly, they're wearing their lipstick!)