To aid me in my weeding of the raspberry patch yesterday, I laid some off-cuts of marble to act as stepping stones.
It felt more like I was playing hopscotch as I balanced on them, tugging at long strings of bindweed.
From the tower terrace, Florence can be seen wondering whether to follow my path.
The trouble is, when she does, she just ploughs on beyond creating her own path. And fairy-feet she is not.
Galileo is the kind of dog that hunts for truffles.
We decided not to train him because it would have meant giving him different conditions to the rest of our dogs.
But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t hunt, obsessively, for anything small that moves (unlike truffles).
This mouse is his handiwork, I’m sure: I found it near the car where he’d been circling, and I can’t say it gave me much of a pang because they get in the engine. One even made a nest in the Wet Wipe packet in the glove compartment.
But the big green lizard that he killed – of a type so big we call them Komodo Dragons – now that did upset me.
This spider couldn’t seem to make up its mind.
It went up and down its thread, between the love-in-a-mist I’d picked and which was now in a vase, and the table.
Finally it settled for the flower.
The photo may well show it just detaching its thread.
It was one of the first real days of summer.
After another attack on the broom in the further reaches of the olive grove, Giovanni applied teak oil to the sides of the swimming pool.
A while ago this would never have been permitted. Taylor was touchy about his personal space being invaded by that pesky puppy.
But Florence has got her feet well under the table, even with him.
Somehow, though, for a female who will be going into her first heat very soon, it seems to be the wrong way round.
The path below the orchard and above the olive grove is full of orchids and all kinds of bright flowers.
This seed head wasn’t very obvious, low in the grass.
I had no idea quite how beautiful it would be under the microscope.
Galileo goes in and out of water all day.
He has four places to choose from: two ponds, the basin where the spring comes out, and now the swimming pool, where he crouches down on top of the inside steps.
I reckon his last visit can’t have been to the swimming pool because he’d probably have been a bit cleaner.
He’s impossible to keep off the sofa, and he circumvents any protective coverings we put there.
His last bastion is the sofa arm.