Out of hours

At the moment we are living beside a 9 hole golf course.  Golf is most definitely not my thing.  I agree with Winston Churchill - a round of golf is a good walk spoilt.  Having said that, out of hours, the neighbouring golf course is serving us quite well in other respects.

There are a few ponds across the expanse of green, which provide sights and sounds from water birds, and wonderful reflections from the sky.

As the rest of us gear up for a summer of tennis, Ted has discovered his favourite seasonal sport is chasing swallows.  As they skim over the ponds and swoop across his bow, he tears after them! It's almost as though they are teasing him.  Their flight is so fast and skilful that he doesn't stand a hope in hell of catching one, but don't tell him that, he's having the time of his life!

During this warm, humid spell of weather I have been picking field mushrooms on the golf course. Several decades ago my mother and I used to pick them on my uncle's Hampshire farm, on misty September mornings, so collecting these has been particularly enjoyable - bringing back happy memories, as well as providing a very delicious ingredient for tonight's supper!