Today, I went to the scattering of my aunt's ashes. Is that what you call it? A scattering? I don't think it has a name and I don't think there was to be much of a ceremony. You may remember I posted about Aunt Nesta's Treasure.
Aunt Nesta's wish was to be scattered in the same place as her husband Alistair who died back in 2002. (I promise this is not a morbid post). They had been together for almost 60 years... can you imagine, 60 years with the same person? They had no children so had devoted themselves to their own interests and each other. How completely they lived for each other was apparent in Aunt Nesta's desolation after the death of Uncle Alistair. Alistair had been a professor of chemistry at Oxford University, Nesta was also a chemist but worked for a long while as a librarian in the Bodleian. Their house was full of books and papers... when I say full... I mean FULL. They had long ago filled every shelf, every nook, crannie, cupboard and box, and a…
It's exciting this time of year, the garden is lush, the veggies are starting to bear fruit and we have a broody hen!
This stupid blogger is still not playing ball and not allowing me to embed my video, even though it's saying I can do this.. I click that option and nothing happens- do you think they know I'm going to ditch them in favour of Vlogging on YouTube? 😄🤣 Maybe.
Oh well, I apologise but here is the URL for the latest Blog entry. Please just subscribe to our channel and bypass this blogger milarky.
Hope it works. If not.. go to YouTube and search for Jane Fincaarte and there you will find us! 😊
There I was, enjoying the heatwave. Working on the computer in the garden and thanking my lucky stars for my wonderful life in general... when... my little hennies stopped wanting to go into their house at night, preferring instead trying to roost in a very small cherry tree where the branches were too thin for all but the tiniest of them. I couldn't figure it out and I couldn't let them stay huddled around the cherry tree base all night where they would be easy pickings for Mr Fox. So I cleaned out the henhouse, special clean and physically put them to bed.
The next morning little speckle lay listless and limp on the floor of the henhouse. On closer inspection she wasnt dead, but hardly alive. I put her into a cardboard box and brought her into the house where it was cooler, thinking that perhaps the intense heat had made the henhouse too warm at nights for them. Tried to get her to drink from a syringe but she expired very quickly. I was really baffled and very upset.