They Start With 9...Right?
Well, she's at either 8 or 7 depending on whether it counts as 2 jumps or 1. We had breakfast, French hen eggs as an omelet w/ squash, red and yellow sweet peppers and young gouda cheese and coffee. Then off to St. Aout (San Too), Saint August to all you Catholics, to a huge brocante (junk/attic/yard/boot sale). We parked after scouring the neighborhood area under a large oak tree and wandered through the streets ogling at the offerings, baby clothes galore, rusted tools, misc. wrecked items, old pots and pans, some ancient ceramic pots, electric supplies etc. What junk. We did this little activity for about an hour then having gotten quite hot and sweaty veered back towards the car and motored out into the beautiful French countryside for a while or two. Over hill and dale, past wheat fields now shorn, corn stalks 6 feet high, groups of Charollet cattle for both meat and milk, old fallen down barns and such, beautiful! Then homeward bound on the Lignieres - La Chatre road. Parked across the street I ran into the Proxi next door for some potatoes and Kelly went on to Maison Blanche. Upon returning I heard a crying cat, not inside...outside! Huh?! Sure enough as I exited the laundry room door there was Cara Cat-Ture panting like crazy and screaming "Help Meow!" as loud as she could from the TOP OF MY KITCHEN! How in the hell?! So back into the house I ran upstairs and opened the window in Kelly's sewing room to let her in...Meow! Me-Owwww! with this awful desperate whine attached. "Cara, Cara" I called again and again but she wouldn't climb up the tiles (hot as an oven!). I then went downstairs and headed to the barn to get the 25 foot chestnut ladder (100lbs at least!) to go to her rescue but was called off by Kelly. Cara had leaped from the roof the 12 feet to the ground and was now being taken, in arms, into the house. So I figured it unfolded like this.
Cara Cat-Ture was in the attic, she climbed or jumped into the open attic window ad her curiosity led her to climb out onto the roof itself. Soon wither her feet being roasted by the slate tiles and getting increasingly hot she soon leapt to the top of my kitchen roof. It's the only way there that I can see available to her. So...8 or 7 left?
Warm Day, Good Day To Kill Plants
That you wanted to thrive. Hot sun on tender basil leaves, fried basil. Replant new basil. Rosemary can take it though, as can the beautiful sage and the oregano is up for it too. I've grown basil here...well, at the old house on the other side of town that was 4 feet tall! Here...I kill it. I plant celery stalks though and they make it along alright delivering me stalks plus beautiful, flavorful leaves whenever I want them. But no basil, that dud. The damned bay tree has grown to be an outsized monolith of a tree. It needs a serious pruning, like 1/2 gone this year and another 1/2 next to get it away from the barn roof and environs. I've misplaced my pruning shears too so that makes that particular task neigh impossible as the branches are as thick as my wrist currently and not getting any smaller. Shit, shit, shit!
Then there's the saga of my old friend Ford The Truck. He was parked in the street he was...now he's being stored after being found without a proper current registration tag and being left on the street without being moved for three whole days, imagine that?! Grrrrrrr. The police supposedly KNOW every car and the house it belongs too, at least in Olde Town that was the myth going around not too long ago. They know, or should that most homes there do not have a garage and there is no off-street parking anywhere in blocks! Ah, no avail, we just ticket them, then we'll tow them (which they did. Afterwards my old and dear friend Wayne Day towed it himself to his business address and stored it there for me.) and charge them 285 USD to retrieve the truck and 185 dollars for a release form from the idiot police. Highway fucking robbery! So damned stupid I can't believe it. We've lived there for years and never had a single incident and now this. Police getting dumber and dumber! Meantime we're out hundreds of dollars for nothing. Bastards all! Grrrrrrr. They've lost a friend in me, that's for sure!