Whispering Grass...

Minerva McGonagall hoping the whispering is from mice. Although I wish she would find a safer place to do her listening. Right on the road junction. She did get down into the field each time a car came along. Many stopping to admire our wee cat sitting in the evening sunshine.

This gate leads on to the road. Unsure as to its purpose.

The planter was up the back of the summerhouse, moved so I can paint. The honeysuckle looks quite sickly but has got flowers on it.

The rear of the shed painted.

And the last wall outside - done - just the window to finish.

All in all I am quite proud of myself.

The inside still to complete.

In my stash of fabric I discovered there is enough of one particular material to do all of the windows. I shall make blinds, the fabric will be hung on canes which will slot into screwed in hooks, I shall make ties in the same fabric so the 'blind' can be rolled up and tied. There is not enough to do the doors. But I think they will be fine without.

Mike went off early this morning to the massive car boot sale at Inverurie. He made the stand money and more but still came back with a car boot full and had got drenched from a cloudburst. So that is the last car boot we will do. I know you expect a bargain at car boot sales but many of the buyers were offering silly money which Mike got really cross at. For example we had a lovely old fashioned enamel bread bin. I paid £20 for it and have seen the same at £40, and he was offered a £1. So a rethink on getting rid of all our clutter. I would rather give it to charity and hope they do well out of it. Not only did he get drenched, but there was the petrol money to take into account, his time and mine in sorting it all. He is shattered to boot (sorry for the pun.)

My day was somewhat better. Not only did I almost finish the exterior of the summer house but I had this visitor in the field at the back of the house. You will have to click on the picture, my camera is nowhere near as good as Mikes.

Stag leaving as he hears a bang from shooters a few fields away, its open season on stags at the moment.

And this is him in the field of barley just before.

Grass whispering is far nicer than nasty bangs.