Burying your treasure

Having given up on shorts I bought myself a new loose dress. Two in fact.

It does mean I will have to be a little more ladylike when playing with children but I can do that! I am a lady after all!

But, sadly, a lady without shoes.

We have grand-dog Louie staying with us. He'd been with us less than four hours when he stole my sandal. I'd only left them at the bottom of the stairs for a minute or two while I popped up to get something but I when I came down one was missing. 

I searched the garden. No sandal. I looked everywhere again. Still no sandal. Then I noticed Louie had Husband's sandal in his mouth. I sneakily followed him on the basis that where he was about to put Husband's sandal I would find mine. 

I didn't. 

Husband's sandal was behind the trees and bushes at the back of the garden. There are lots of these nooks and crannies all around us, just the right size for a small dog to get through but not a human. Three of us, Husband, Elder Son and I must have spent half an hour searching before I resigned myself to the fact that my sandal was gone unless Louie decided to bring it back. Husband did let him sniff my other sandal and said, "Go find, Louie!"

But he didn't.

It was a sunny afternoon so we were sitting in the garden when Elder Son noticed something. Louie was digging a hole and burying a football. Yes, a football.

You wouldn't know there was a football under there, would you?

A little uncovered.

We investigated it a bit further and checked another patch of newly dug earth but my sandal was still nowhere to be found. 

So now I'm searching online for Birkenstocks. I saw the pair I want but nobody has it in my size.

And now I've seen them I can't settle for anything less.

* * * * *

Various councillors and organisations have been paying to have the boring green electric* boxes on the pavements painted. 

Rather wonderful.

And finally, I took Louie for a walk yesterday morning - before he stole my sandal - and was inspired. I've been trying to decide what I should cover in my October Bay article. I'll be on holiday when it's due so I want to get it done early. 

I decided to write about regeneration and the wonder of nature, the great variety of wild flowers that now grow on what was once the municipal rubbish tip. To get a photo to go with it I picked some of the wild flowers - and felt so guilty! Everyone I passed I wanted to tell that I never normally picked wild flowers and I was only picking one of each sort. The laws seem a bit vague but mostly the problem arises when you uproot a wild plant, especially obviously from a conservation area. 

Identifying them, now that's a different problem.

And the rascal himself.

* I think they're something to do with electricity.