Then Alexandre had an attack of creativity. He would immediately build the tandoor oven I had wistfully mentioned at the beginning of the summer. It took him two days and a borrowed electric cement mixer. This reminded us of the old days - days when we could either boil a kettle or run the cement mixer. Definitely not two electricity powered machines at the same time.
|just waiting for fire and food|
No sooner was the elegant terra-cotta lid put on the tandoor, the cement mixer returned to its senior owner, an initiation (chicken skewers) planned for this weekend, then the rains came down. Since Friday rainfall has threatened to from millimetres to a centimetre, perhaps even more.
The Black Pond in the Woods is filling nicely. So presumably is the lake at the bottom of the valley. But it has been too wet to go see.
Were I to go see I would hope to see the ducks there, the ones my grandson so gleefully, if unsuccessfully, chased. Since this traumatic occasion (for the ducks, boy enjoyed) there has been no sign of them. No sign of white feathers anywhere, which would indicate a four legged predator, a fox or wandering hunt dog. They were too young to fly. We have not ventured into the deep woods to seek further.
The recent spell of extremely hot weather has been our accepted explanation for the lack of eggs in the hen-house. Or perhaps they had been 'laying away' but not even Haska, the pretty black and tan dog, had been seen with any eggs.
Today, Audrey discovered a faint track in the grass leading to the hen-house. She traced it back to the lawn, heading for the woods.. There was animal shit on the wall. We looked at each other. The pine marten is back, we said.