A wet, foggy and windy week

      Suddenly the hot summer weather has changed and seems to have gone. Friday brought fog, thick fog, and it seemed like at the atmosphere was straight from Charles Dickens' novel Bleak House, but it wasn't fog in the rigging, on the river or in the Captain's throat but fog in the orchards, the poplars, the dykes, the terriers throats and across the fields.
      The rest of week the weather has seemed determined to prove that the UK doesn't have a climate, just weather, it was certainly nothing like an early onset of Autumn and nothing like an Indian summer either. The wind blew and turned into a gale and the rain went from heavy to biblical with puddles forming on the drive, roofing felt being ripped off the shed and watering cans and pots being hurled all over the side garden.

      The colour of the landscape has changed too, we've gone from fields that were standing wheat a few weeks ago then stubble and the huge, circular, one ton straw bales to fields that have turned brown with cultivation and then a darker brown again with the action of the plough.
      The season is definitely marching on with what seems incredible speed into autumn, but everything seems earlier this year, is it psychological or is it just the effect of lockdown?

      The Boss has been busy making jam with the Marjorie Seedling plums that have begun to ripen, the condition of the plums was so good that four and a half pounds of plums made eight pounds of delicious jam for the winter cupboard, that's a whole lot of toast and sponge cakes. Well I hope it is.
      You do have to be a little circumspect picking the plums because those clusters of frui can hide a few wasps that are sheltering from the rain; painful if an irritable wasp drops down your sleeve.

      Terrier walking continues everyday, unless we have those delightful monsoon conditions, but they don't seem to notice it's just an eagerly anticipated routine. Barney at thirteen and a half is showing his age and his hips trouble him a little but then doesn't everyone's in this family. In this photograph he's a bit subdued because of a visit to the vet to have some teeth removed so he's entitled to be a little quiet and grumpy.
      Sensibly Lucie keeps her distance in the background.

     The old World War 2 vintage Nissen Hut that we pass on the walks is still home to the Little Owls, evidence of their tenure is splattered all down the loose piece of corrugated lining and there are pellets on the floor too so they've made the hut home for three out of the last four years.

      Having had four or five posts disappear into the magnetic mist using the new Google blogger, which is total and utter rubbish, I've reverted to Heritage Blogger for The Two Terriers which I will continue to use and post once a week.
      If I am forced to use the new, super, all singing, all dancing but 'Improved Worse' blogger I intend to see how it goes. If it is as bad as it is now, which is worse than utter rubbish and that is being very, very polite, I will move to Wordpress but I will keep my readers informed.
      All three of them.