Owl's Eyes, People and a Pussy Cat

My owl has eyes again.

I thought, when I had knocked him over, nearly two years ago, I had ruined the wiring. B, the Builder, was here early last evening - to help with a plumbing issue - and asked. I tried to fob him off.

He'd not hear of it.

Just like that: Mr Owl moved, problem identified. And solved.

Made my day.

Oh, and if you're wondering, local artisan, Fabian Small, who lives in the village, and is Koos Malgas' grandson, made him for us about 12 years ago. To my specification. Especially the eyes.

I was particularly pleased as I had already planned Saturday's gathering. Someone I was at school with, and whom until last October, I'd not seen for 40 years, has recently moved to the village.

I gathered an eclectic group of villagers in the hope that she'd find other kindred spirits. I think she may have: she departed grumbling that she had to go because her puppy doesn't do well being left alone for too long.

A day later, this popped up in my memories: The Husband and our Pavement Persian in the garden as we "found" it when we moved in 14 years ago.

From being rather exposed, we - mostly he - created a shady oasis. So shady, I now have to find an alternative to grass. I'm working on that...

And, of course, Gandalf was not going to be left out, and put himself at the centre of the party. For a while, anyway!

Until next time

Post script

I blog here, on Instagram and via WordPress to my own website. I write for love and a living and you'll find out more about that here. Content for the first two, and sometimes the last, cross pollinate.

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Original artwork: @artywink

I create graphics using partly my own photographs as well as images available freely available on @hive.blog and Canva.