tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1798741819621608096.post2950074626965335588..comments2023-11-06T08:40:29.039+00:00Comments on The Dabbler: Introducing Dabbler CountryBrithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00390560583798960760noreply@blogger.comBlogger9125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1798741819621608096.post-5645586471751721272010-08-25T21:29:06.359+01:002010-08-25T21:29:06.359+01:00I remarked on the absence of swifts to my dad whil...I remarked on the absence of swifts to my dad while I was visiting these last couple of days. Their glee always lift my spirits.Dan Chambershttps://www.blogger.com/profile/18133320689848797620noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1798741819621608096.post-17172117141798115322010-08-10T12:26:13.962+01:002010-08-10T12:26:13.962+01:00bah humbug!!bah humbug!!wormhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02802335627720182532noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1798741819621608096.post-71647799708987258872010-08-09T22:17:45.867+01:002010-08-09T22:17:45.867+01:00This is so beautifully written and I couldn't ...This is so beautifully written and I couldn't possibly be so eloquent in agreeing that August is an odd month - not so much a let down as a continuation of our disappointment. Our curiously British climate never fails to let us down - it's generally either too hot, or too wet, or too snowy. Too cold I haven't heard in a long time. But plants die down (very messily), and birds fly off, and nights draw in every year - so long as they all come back again, at least we've something to look forward to.Susanhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00179895758709928467noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1798741819621608096.post-13816093708774965892010-08-09T11:50:23.690+01:002010-08-09T11:50:23.690+01:00bad autumn.<a href="http://blogs.telegraph.co.uk/finance/ianmcowie/100007194/browned-off-britain-six-in-10-would-like-to-leave-the-country/" rel="nofollow"><i>bad</i> autumn.</a>maltyhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02936465848907794425noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1798741819621608096.post-21369991428535572042010-08-09T11:35:34.320+01:002010-08-09T11:35:34.320+01:00Yes, I've always found August to be the saddes...Yes, I've always found August to be the saddest month: with most English summers, there's that sense of something starting to slip away before it's really quite arrived. Get to a certain age, of course, and the wider suggestions of that become quite melancholy, and not in any cherishable way.<br /><br />I read something saying that autumn would be late this year, but it doesn't feel that way here in Bucks: the grass is pale straw, the chestnut trees are rusting up, and the rowans are in full garish technicolour. Saturday, a great wedge of geese went over, honking in their doleful way.jonathan lawhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05986943428040953041noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1798741819621608096.post-92085814344384122332010-08-09T11:34:57.809+01:002010-08-09T11:34:57.809+01:00Hmmn, this is rather a metropolitan take on things...Hmmn, this is rather a metropolitan take on things. Yes, the zingy freshness of early summer is long gone; and there is a rather stuffy feeling of hiatus in the air as birds prepare to take their leave and flowers wither and brown. But out in the countryside ... another world is ready, a wonderful picture of ochre, brown, biscuit, yellow and gold dotted with greens as the harvest comes in. Market stalls are groaning with summer fruits and vegetables. There is still plenty of time for long, lazy picnics. So many people are away enjoying two weeks of stomach upsets, abusive waiters and sunstroke that London is easier for the visitor now and there are plenty of good exhibitions to see. I've always found August a rich and sensuous month, even if only for the pleasures of raddledom and tatfulness. I'll pass on February, that really is a gruesome time.Markhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06074816573442173758noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1798741819621608096.post-74329812063749524502010-08-09T11:00:58.337+01:002010-08-09T11:00:58.337+01:00The wife, and here I have to admit that, play her ...The wife, and here I have to admit that, play her off against the met office and it's no contest, has a theory, a big one. <i>Autumn now starts during the second week in July.</i> bearing in mind the following, we are nearly 300 miles closer to the polar bears than you lot, we are ruled by the SNP, its Edinburgh Festival time.<br />This leads to some anomalies that would crack even Oddies countenance, the cuckoos have buggered off, the geese are giving vee signs (I exaggerate) and the flycatchers are desperately trying to get out of their contracts. The heather seems to turn purple as the schools break up and the raspberries are ready for picking the week after lent.<br />I sneakily suspect that she may be right. However as the current score for big theories, 2010 stands at wife 3, self 1 her theory will be disallowed.maltyhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02936465848907794425noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1798741819621608096.post-47783593813234904482010-08-09T08:21:12.502+01:002010-08-09T08:21:12.502+01:00August joins February and possibly March as my le...August joins February and possibly March as my least favourite months of the year. In England, photographically, January and July can be a bit tricky too.<br /> <br />@xenscapeAnonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1798741819621608096.post-85090076284688357432010-08-09T06:31:01.066+01:002010-08-09T06:31:01.066+01:00My Uncle Joe, a dedicated gardener and close obser...My Uncle Joe, a dedicated gardener and close observer of nature, used to describe July as a 'blowsy' month. I thought this was spot on but never wondered what this implied about August. Perhaps 'raddled'?Gareth Williamshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05058241057385364459noreply@blogger.com