Skip to main content
Emily and Poppi
 
 Here're our two Jack Russell Terriers, once again snuggling on their favourite doggy cushion.  It used to be Richard's cushion but they had other ideas.  It's a shame about the red-eye, though I managed to tweak it and reduce it to ochre-eye.  Is it an improvement?  I'll let you decide.
 
Last weekend saw us in the garden, raking together autumn leaves and making a bonfire from a heap of pruned branches.  The dogs were safely indoors, of course.  The leaves were quite damp from all this rain we've had, so consequently the fire was very smoky.  But it's one of those gardening jobs which simply needs doing.
 
Smoky autumn bonfire
 
Just behind the fire you can see our two conical compost bins, which were made from recycled rubber.  They have no base, so to extract good compost  you simply slide a garden fork under them and lift them off.   They're suprisingly light to move around, yet the compost inside stops them from blowing off during storms.   I've had them for over a decade now, and they're in as good a condition as when I first bought them.  You can also see two buckets of water  beside the yard brush  in case the fire got out of control.  There's no point waiting until you need water to run for some, when it's easy enough to have some standing by.  


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

A Cure for Aging?

"All that we profess to do is but this, - to find out the secrets of the human frame; to know why the parts ossify and the blood stagnates, and to apply continual preventatives to the effort of time.  This is not magic; it is the art of medicine rightly understood.  In our order we hold most noble -, first, that knowledge which elevates the intellect; secondly, that which preserves the body.  But the mere art (extracted from the juices and simples) which recruits the animal vigour and arrests the progress of decay, or that more noble secret which I will only hint to thee at present, by which heat or calorific, as ye call it, being, as Heraclitus wisely taught, the primordial principle of life, can be made its perpectual renovator...." Zanoni, book IV, chapter II, by Edward Bulwer-Lytton, first published in 1842. Oroboros keyring - Spooky Cute Designs The idea of being able to achieve an immortal life is probably as old as human life itself.  Folklore and myt...

Falling Trees and Blue Portraits

Birkenhead Park Visitor Centre, 7th April 2019, by Adele Cosgrove-Bray. My ongoing series of sketches in the park continues unabated, as is evident. On a few recent sketches I've added some simple washes of watercolour to bring another dimension to the scenes. I've long grown accustomed to sketching in public, and the few people who've passed any comment have always been encouraging. I've even unintentionally captured a tiny bit of park history:- I drew this lovely arching tree in February this year, and since then its own weight has pulled its roots out from the ground. Probably due to safety concerns, it has been brutally cut back so it's now little more than a stump, and the horizontal section, with all its vertical branches, has been removed. Hopefully the tree will survive this harsh treatment. "How can walkies please, when every step's a wheeze?" by Adele Cosgrove-Bray. Portrait by Adele Cosgrove-Bray; chalk and charcoal...

Shrinking Towns and Strange Trips

Dance of the Storm Lords by Adele Cosgrove-Bray; watercolour; 2018. Currently on show at the Atkinson Gallery in Southport is a small exhibition by Wirral Society of Arts members, which I enjoyed viewing on Saturday in the company of my sister Evelyn. There was also a photography exhibition which fused together new and old images of Southport, which was fun to see how the town had changed, plus a music-themed art exhibition, and a very small makers' market in the foyer. We had lunch in one of Evelyn's favourite cafes, and she showed me a video of her new kitchen which looks fabulous - all pale and pristine. Then we ambled along Lord Street as we caught up on each other's news, and ended up sipping coffee somewhere; a lovely day. Heading for home on a very crowded train, I sat opposite a middle-aged man who was smashed off his skull on skunk weed, or so he informed everyone within earshot. He continually jabbered about him being in great danger as the train might cra...