Teasel sleeps on the bed after supervising our morning activities. Teasel greatly enjoys food and I have been calling her "Teasel the Tank."
Charlie, the dad cat, looks appealingly innocent. Moments earlier his son Chester was under the rug atop the hassock with Charlie pummeling him, while Teasel jabbed a wiley paw under the rug for good measure. Charlie has led the tribe this evening in wild surges through the rooms, crashing headlong into his cardboard box under the picture window, banging his head on the same window in an ill-judged leap for the sill. The sobering moment came with a crash in here. I was taking cookies from the oven, so it was a bit later that I came in to find my ironing board upended, iron on its side with water puddling out, fabric strips in a muddle on the floor.
Charlie and Maisie's daughter, Jemima, is such a sweetie. She favors the top of this bookcase. A leap into my old wing chair and a bounce up to the top shelf, and she can keep tabs on whatever I am doing.
Pebbles the Horse is recovering from a frightening bout of laminitis brought on by injudicious consumption of grass which had been frosted. This was a danger to her health that we had to learn the hard way. She has been a month in this "starvation pasture" and none too pleased about it. She is being fed very carefully with a non-sweetened grain mixture created especially for horses who are subject to founder. She has a water tub, and hay. She is bored with her confinement to such a small area, although pleased this week that J. has been working on the side entry roof and she can watch him. If she creates a big enough fuss, chances are he will fetch her a carrot. It is a relief to see that she is once again stepping smartly.
I am always intrigued by the patterns of branches against the sky. I tend to gaze up into the heavens, fiddling with the camera's zoom feature until I am dizzy and losing my balance on uneven ground.