Who’s the nosier?

After an intensive day of rain and computer I decided to go for a brief walk around my country abode here in Posadas (Cordova, Spain. See this link for photos and also the explanation as to why and how I ended up here!).

Of course I did not go on my walk alone, but was accompanied by the usual moggies, as you shall see…

Firstly I stopped to admire the lantern-like flowers that were already out on the strawberry tree (Arbutus).

There was just one arbutus berry left because the birds had got at them already (especially the stonechats which are noisily prevalent these days!).

The sky started to clear somewhat, letting down a few illuminating rays onto the distant Sierrezuela Hills

Then it cleared even more…

…and as I was looking skywards, I had the curious sensation that I was being watched…

First there was one…

…then there were two…

…and another made three.

I don’t think they were so interested in me after all…

…but rather in Little Strawberry and Santiago.

Come back!!!!

Though who was the nosier I just can’t tell…

Which brings me to the poem by Robert Louis Stevenson (1850-1894, Edinburgh, Scotland)

The Cow

The friendly cow all red and white, 
I love with all my heart: 
She gives me cream with all her might, 
To eat with apple-tart. 

She wanders lowing here and there, 
And yet she cannot stray, 
All in the pleasant open air, 
The pleasant light of day; 

And blown by all the winds that pass 
And wet with all the showers, 
She walks among the meadow grass 
And eats the meadow flowers. 

Thank you for visiting —hope you are all well! xxx

A beautiful evening sky and Ode to the Sunset!

Greetings!

The sunset over Posadas (Cordova) last night was inspiring…

The Sunset, Woven of Soft Lights — Katharine Lee Bates (1895-1929, Massachusetts)

The sunset, woven of soft lights
And tender colors, lingers late,
As looking back on all day’s dreary plights,
Compassionate;

— The foolish day of hopes so high,
Who counts her hours by blunders now,
Yet wears at last this jewel-crown of sky
Upon her brow.

Out to eternity she goes,
Not for her failure scorned, but see!
Our poor day flushed with beauty, one more rose
On God’s rose-tree

xxx