Push-Me-Pull-You

Out walking at the weekend I came across a... well, would you believe it... a Push-Me-Pull-You. There it was, as plain as day, doing much the same as I was, if the truth be known. Just taking advantage of what might well turn out to be the last summery weekend we see this year.  It sat there, minding its own business, soaking up the sun, not knowing quite which way to look under such close scrutiny.

Kristal didn't know what to make of it. Which head should she address? Which way would it run if she dared to spook it?  One small pup could cause havoc in a paddock of Push-Me's if given the chance, so we moved on to bother some badgers. Well, they would have been bothered if they'd been home. Evidence suggested that they'd recently been evicted.

Up in the field, the crop had been harvested and so we were able to stand in the midst of nothingness and soak up the sense of  S  P  A  C  E .  Kristal didn't know which way to run first.

She had a lovely time charging up and down the tracks made by the huge harvester and leaping over the stubble. Whenever I'm in a field like this I'm reminded of the harvesting episodes in Tess of the d'Urbervilles - the back-breaking work; the long hours. And I think of the many paintings of villagers gleaning what they can from the fields once harvest is over. I bend down to assess just how much useful grain I might be able to salvage... and then I wonder what I'd have to do to it before it was any use to me...  and how long would that take me? Yes, there is something to be said for progress... I'm so glad I can just pop down to Waitrose.