Harvest Thanksgiving

At the weekend we had the most supreme storm. The wind in the trees was mental enough, but then we had intense, pounding rain, fabulous, FABULOUS, there's just nothing quite like it.
The morning after, all the birds came out to play, herons were standing patiently in every inlet, eagles were riding the azure, the garden Jays were bouncing from branch to branch of the spruce, and the Juncos are back for the winter.

This business with the Chilean miners is freaking me out. Less since I found out that they're not inside the tube for an hour, but less than twenty minutes, still, just thinking about it gives me the cold panic. At the same time, I am so glad they are bringing them out at last, and weeks earlier than at first anticipated.

Wow, I can't believe Claire Rayner has died. I also can't believe she was 79. Surely people stay at the age when they were most on the telly. Mmmm? No, s'pose not. She was like everyone's real aunt, sensible and down-to-earth, and she had a really chocolately voice. Loved her.

Bad driving was very equal opps today. Firstly, taking Alex to work, I was driving in the right hand lane, and needed to move over into the middle lane. I signalled, the lane was clear, and started to change lanes. As I did so, a woman driving in the left hand lane, simply moved over without signalling and clearly without looking. She was too busy applying her lippie.
On the way to Ikea, a man came gunning it across an intersection, no matter the other traffic he was ignoring and barely missing. Of course, he had a full map open over his steering wheel and appeared to be reading it.

In some ways, I feel a bit mean blogging this little interchange, but it was cute really.
On our morning walk, Whisky met a new dog friend.
'What is your dog's name?' I asked,
'Belly,' said the owner. Strangely appropriate and yet odd, thought I.
'This is Whisky,' I said,
'Oh!' said the owner, 'both have drink names,'
'Um...????'
'Yes, Whisky and Belly's Irish Cream,' he said.
Right!