I'm watching as the light falls and the trees become colourless, silhouetted against the last of a sky in the moments before it becomes a night sky. Little bats flicker about in those lighter patches, invisible against the dark trees. It makes me think that sometimes what we can't see defines what we can. And what we can see defines what we can't.
The must-do submission has gone, at which point the rational mind immediately disappears, to be replaced by one which witters 'did I pick the right images, did I spell my name right?'. Ah well.
The dog found one of the places where the rabbits live (a stack of ancient oak beams from a dismantled barn), and spends hours, pacing this way and that, probing, trying to work out how to get to them (the rabbits stay put, knowing they are perfectly safe, it seems). Today, while she was busy with this, a large hedgehog sauntered out and trotted along the grass. The dog spotted it immediately, and I braced myself for a prickly rescue. She barked, sniffed, (at which point the hedgehog stopped being quite so nonchalant) and went back to the beams. The hedgehog stayed perfectly still for a while, then keeping a wary eye on the dog, went back to where it had come from.
I have concluded that keeping my iPod on shuffle is bad for my concentration.