Ginger, green and more ginger.

We walked up the hill to where the bluebells make the ground shine with blue haze and the air smell beautiful, but the wind was strong and it started to rain. Kind Robin picked me up to shelter me inside his strange coat which is not of fur, but I wanted to walk, so said thank you but no, I would walk in the rain as I walk in the sun.

There were long horned ginger cows by the old village with great horned heads, and I would like some horns like that so I could be the great-horned-ginger-cat of the hills.

Not all things that are ginger are cats....

...some things that are ginger are pigs.

Highland cows

Just before moonrise She came back. We heard the car before we saw Her and one by one came out of the evening gloaming to greet Her. She has been away for too long. And we told Her all about how Debs had not fed us at all, nor taken us for any walks apart from when she led Elmo away up the hill and lost him and again he stayed up there all night alone. And She gave us some food and then muttered something about how She had been to Scotland and had won The Highland Children Book Award for the best picture book for Snow Leopard! Well, we are glad She has won an award for something because She would not win any awards for looking after cats, going away and leaving us for a whole swelling of the moon! But we were pleased because the award was a ginger cow, and it seems to make Her happy to have an award for colouring in and writing. So later when the moon was riding in the night sky and silvering the clouds we walked around the village with Her, pouncing on moon shadows, because, after all, it is good to have Her back.

After a long walk in the early morning....

....what could be better than to relax with friends,

stretch out,

and just relax, while outside the weather builds and the rain falls. Inside is warm and cosy by the fire, and we wonder, should we have invited the ginger cow home?

Stalking gingers

On the high hill the ginger cows munch coarse grass and golden flowers. We find their wool hanging like ginger washing on the fences where they have scratched themselves against the wire. Huge, woolly and medieval with horns like spears we stalk carefully around them. But they seem like gentle beasts.




Curious to know what we are, the young ones come closer, but we are wary and stalk past like leopards. And the winter sun shines on our dappled coats and makes them shine.

Wild Pixie and the Ginger Cows

Some days are made for walking and this is one. Pearl light from the early morning sun bleaching out the distant landscape and bringing close up into focus with bright colour. The air is still and the distant cathedral bell calls across the valley. Closer the dry feathers of small birds rattle in the autumn air and smaller bell tones of light, bright linnets and blackbird song complete the symphony of this morning song.
Walking up the hill we find an anvil stone where yellow beaked blackbirds and speckled thrush break the fragile shell of unlucky snails to pluck out the meat.




And on the side of the hill in the autumn rusted bracken we find that the longhorns are back, medieval beasts with curving horns and thick coats of such beautiful colour.




Some days are good.