This is a post left over from when Loose and Leafy was a work of fiction. Later, it evolved into what it is now - a blog about the wild plants of the South Dorset Coast.
To make sense (in so far as there is sense) of these early posts, you may like to take a look at Esther in the Garden.
Blogger has changed much in recent times. I'm not sure if the odd formatting on this page is because I was new to things then - or because flaws have crept in over the years.
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Iceland, it seems, is bankrupt. Friends suffer - and suffer with equanimity. I, none the less, am laying claim to a bad morning. It's all because of landlines and routers; it's down to unhelpful providers, absent
plumbers and overflowing overflows.
So . . . I went to vent my anger on the world. No call centre workers being attacked by mad axe-men, unfortunately. No plumbers' secretaries falling down drains that I could see. Maybe I was in the wrong place. Another failure. So I switched to the
grey day - bare trees where leaves have skipped autumn; dull skies, drizzle. I hoped for a storm. I would have coped better if Ceres hadn't lost three coats in as many weeks. If thunder had sucked anger from Dorchester on my behalf, I might have listened in a more friendly way to Esther. This morning, she struck up a monologue about not having the right kind of paper and has been in and out of the house all day with updates. I'm not interested. Thunder? Lightening? Rain? No. 
The coast looked promising. 
But the sun came out. On the other hand Mrs Rustbridger's dog bit the heel of Sam's shoe. His teeth went all a judder. Sam wasn't hurt but he dropped six pints and charged them to Mrs Rustbridger. Knowing that helps.
grey day - bare trees where leaves have skipped autumn; dull skies, drizzle. I hoped for a storm. I would have coped better if Ceres hadn't lost three coats in as many weeks. If thunder had sucked anger from Dorchester on my behalf, I might have listened in a more friendly way to Esther. This morning, she struck up a monologue about not having the right kind of paper and has been in and out of the house all day with updates. I'm not interested. Thunder? Lightening? Rain? No. 
The coast looked promising. 
But the sun came out. On the other hand Mrs Rustbridger's dog bit the heel of Sam's shoe. His teeth went all a judder. Sam wasn't hurt but he dropped six pints and charged them to Mrs Rustbridger. Knowing that helps.
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For Tomorrow's Post For Yesterday's Post
8 comments:
Hey Lucy..did you really faint? Perhaps that's what has you in such a bad mood today..besides the internet and plumbing problems. I see you did find one small spot of sunshine..a poor little leaf:)
Yes, I sort of withered at the knees.
Once I'd recovered, I realised Esther looked a bit like the rhino in the 'Just So' stories . . . wrinkles of grey skin with lumps in the folds - which might have been dry crumbs.
The eye patch cheered me up, once I'd got over the shock.
Yes . . . the leaf. I'm still in enough of a bad mood to wonder which is worse . . . that I wanted gloomy pictures and the sun came out, or that it was only one leaf it shone upon.
Lucy
Big Web-Hugs Lucy, hope for better days tommorow.
Jen
But the ocean picture is full of dark atmosphere, with the sky brooding over the water, and the rocks dotting the sea. The perspective you took it from, with the ocean in the foreground really gives it a sense of movement...I got a little seasick looking at it, actually, but many things are making me seasick at the minute! So that picture should cover over a multitude of sunlit-leaves!
When you realize that the weather is dictating your moods is when you have to accept the fact that you're just another child of Mother Nature. Even in a bad mood, you take lovely pictures. Hope you - and the weather - take turns for the better soon.
Thanks, Muddy Boots.
To some extent, you must take what I say with a pinch of salt.
I certainly was in a very cross mood when I wrote the grey day post . . . but I'm not sure whether to say I'm permanently grumpy or that I get over things quickly. Both are true. I get over things by grumping.
However . . . the router is still not sorted. The company that made it says there's nothing wrong. The company we pay for a landline says there's nothing wrong. The internet provider says there's nothing wrong. I bought a new phone. I bought a new filter. Yet still I can receive no incoming calls. There doesn't seem to be anything left to do except to grumble.
A plumber comes on Monday to do a two hour inspection. Previous plumbers have said it is impossible that the overflow in the bathroom comes on if I have a bath and use the washing machine - but . . . if I have a bath and use the washing machine . . . the bathroom overflow comes on.
Ah . . . that's better . . . another grump out of my system!
Lucy
Ah, Weeping Sore - when the wind gets up and the leaves fly everywhere and I can smell bonfires . . . I will fill with life and energy!
Lucy
Rosa, I hate to say it but the 'rocks' are mostly pebbles - I took the photo from so low down, it exagerated their size.
Here, on the east side of the peninsula, where this was taken, the land is much protected by the Portland Harbour walls. However, the west side is incredible. The waves are HUGE when they beat up against Chesil Beach. That is where wreckers used to work and where, if you fall into the sea, your only hope of survival is that the waves toss you back out. And the undertow is so great you can't pull yourself onto the pebbles by your own effort.
Lucy
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