Mushy Season

I've managed to keep up my morning walks lately, if not blog posts. This morning it was cold and misty and I picked pine mushies round the pines along the way. There's a flush at the moment. I picked enough on Monday for breakfast for two days so the mushies picked yesterday, two or three kilos, were surplus. I took them to the farm. Elvie rang Australian Herb Supplies who were having an order picked up in the afternoon and they said they'd be pleased to take them. Jod had picked plenty of field mushies at the farm so I had a nice tray to take home for today's brekky, nothing like variety, leaving today's pinies again surplus. Our other herb wholesale buyer, Herb and Spice Garden, picks up this arvo and I'm hoping they'll take them.

Winter looms. Most of the autumn show has gone. Some of the birches retain brilliant yellow, some liquid ambers yet resemble a fiery shower, but you feel in the air that they'll be gone with next strong wind or decent rain. There's a feel of dormancy or hibernation, a patience.

The dogs don't mind the cold first thing in the morning, eager to take off on their walk. Old 'Snow' trots stiffly like fat piglet. Young 'Pip' prances, springs and sprints, soft footed like a cat. A couple of weeks ago she had a mishap, traumatic to her and me. For months, as we leave the Post Office after I untie them, she pulled on the lead, keen to talk through the fence to two dogs in the house two doors up. The two confined dogs barked and snarled while 'Pip' yipped and squealed in delight at seeing her 'friends'. I'd stop for a few seconds letting them calm down and have a sniff, always holding 'Pip' back on the lead a couple of inches from the noses of the other dogs, at the small gap in the corner of the fence and a rock wall. 'Snow' was usually indifferent, occasionally joining in.

On the morning of the mishap, after a build up of a few days when they all seemed to be becoming friends, I relaxed my hold on the lead a little. Pip got too close, the blue heeler grabbing her by the snout in a fierce bite which took small bits out of her nose and puctured the roof of her mouth. She screamed, and cried loudly for a time after the beast had released her. There was quite a lot of blood. I felt sick out of sympathy, and guilt for letting it happen.

All the way home she stayed close to my heels. She was not herself for a couple of days. We were fortunate there was no major or permanent damage. She had learnt a hard lesson, that the world is a dangerous place, and pain lies in wait. As if it was a speeding up of her maturity, she's actually easier to manage now, more attentive to whistle and voice. It's as if she thinks, "I'd better listen and do as I'm told or some thing might grab me again." When we leave the post office now she pulls on the lead to take me across the road. She won't go anywhere near that fence.

I stopped to pick mushrooms this morning in Quinn Rd., just up from our corner. The dogs are off the lead here. 'Snowy' goes on about 40 metres and sits waiting, Pip stays close, sniffing at the mushrooms. There was a clicky, scratchy sound overhead, like sparking electricity in the wires. It was a group of small birds about 30-35 feet up a peppermint tree, busily flitting about in the tree, presumably eating lerp insects or such. I couldn't see them well, perhaps they were thornbills or pardalotes, but the clicking noise must have been their feeding beaks. I'd say there was more than a dozen. The bellbirds around our place, that chase away other small birds, remarkably don't extend up Quinn Rd.

At the other end of Quinn Rd, at 'the gouge', concrete was being poured to make the shed floor as I came past. The McMansion now has a double brick garage on the top side and will have a very large shed on the low side. My view into the valley will soon be totaly gone.