Fly Agaric

Here is every child's image of a toadstool - the classic red with white spots. We have had lots of fly agaric on the garden this year and they reminded me of a poem my Mum used to recite to us as children - The Elf and the Dormouse by Oliver Herford, an American poet of the early twentieth century.

Under a toadstool crept a wee Elf,
Out of the rain to shelter himself.

Under the toadstool, sound asleep,
Sat a big Dormouse all in a heap.

Trembled the wee Elf, frightened and yet
Fearing to fly away lest he get wet.

To the next shelter—maybe a mile!
Sudden the wee Elf smiled a wee smile.

Tugged till the toadstool toppled in two.
Holding it over him, gaily he flew.

Soon he was safe home, dry as could be.
Soon woke the Dormouse—"Good gracious me!

"Where is my toadstool?" loud he lamented.
—And that's how umbrellas first were invented.

I am reminded of this little rhyme every time I see the large toadstools that have sprung up all over the garden this year.

An early Autumn

Just a quick post - there's a lot happening and not much time for blogging.

The walk in the woods is getting wetter with the loch level really high for this time of year. The beaches have practically disappeared - much to Rosie's displeasure - and some of the trees already have their feet in water.

After weeks of seemingly unremitting rain there are occasional glimmers. I caught this pool of light on a walk last week. I love the spicy

smells of Autumn and the changing colours. The bracken is turning brown now and will soon be flattened by the winds and storms.

There are also signs of the swallows preparing to leave - lining up on the wires and taking part in spectacular feeding frenzies as they swoop and dive for insects. It's either that or they are in training for the marathon flight ahead.