HOME IS WHERE THE HEART IS

Tuesday used to be my lucky day but now it's the most evil, most rotten day of the week. I have to be out of the house by two. So perhaps it has to do with the hours the shops keep in town. Out here in the country people work from seven or eight in the morning until four or five in the evening and they take an hour, or less, for lunch.

In town shops open at nine but they close at noon. They reopen at 3:30 but in the heat of summer, that's more like 4:30. They stay open until seven but five o'clock is dogs' dinner time, isn't it? On top of that, food shops, apart from supermarkets, close Monday mornings and everything closes on Wednesday afternoons.

The long lunch hour is not, as is supposed, for a nap in the middle of the day. No. It's because working men deserve a full mid-day dinner at home and need travel time.

So, knowing I would be out all afternoon, I rushed around looking for the wild flowers I saw up in the mountains yesterday. None. They have finished their lives at my altitude.
So I chased orange bumble bees, tried macro on a little moth that had fixed itself to a wall in the bedroom. It was too high up for a steady focus. Besides all that, the Doberman, who usually sticks to me like glue and makes my life an agility course, shot off up the path and vanished into the woods.

Himself was in and out, something about a neighbour's fig tree hanging too low over the road which was about to topple over. I stepped outside on the balcony to yell for the dog and what did I find? This. A wasps' nest in a little watering can. I'm feeling waspish. So sorry about this. It's not a pretty sight.