I mowed the lawn yesterday and picked up as many of those infernal walnuts as I could. Then Olga and I went for a long walk, the first time in about two months we've visited Hampstead Heath. These days I'm thankful whenever she feels like walking that far.
She moves much more slowly than she used to, but we completed our usual loop through the West Heath, Sandy Heath and the Extension before coming home through Golders Hill Park. It used to be a two-hour walk for us; now it takes about twice that.
Still, she loved it, chasing squirrels and immersing her belly in some mud. (That's duckweed on the pond, making it look like a green lawn.)
This is a new butterfly for me -- it's called a silver-washed fritillary. I don't recall ever seeing one before.
And on the same stand of ragwort, near one of the ponds on the Extension, I saw two peacock butterflies.
We found this peacock, too -- a colorful apple cider bottle cap.
After this adventure, Olga came home, ate dinner and went straight to bed -- and she hasn't shown any interest in moving around much since then. She's snoring next to me right now. I gave her a paracetamol and her anti-inflammatory meds to ward off any arthritic aches.
Last night I watched "Poltergeist," which remains one of my favorite old movies. It always makes me nostalgic for my teenage years -- it captures that period of time so well, the architecture and clothes and pop culture, despite the supernatural storyline. And the night before I watched "The Hindenburg," with George C. Scott and Anne Bancroft. There's nothing like a good '70s disaster flick. (Or even a mediocre one!)