Archive for July, 2016

Dragon’s blood

July 31, 2016 Leave a comment
Purple against a blue sky

Purple against a blue sky

These are some of the Dragon’s Blood plums, seen from underneath the branches.

There aren’t as many as usual for an ‘on’ year, maybe because of shot hole disease and aphids due to the wet spring.

But they’re big, and just as delicious and beautiful as ever with their startlingly bright red juice.

I wonder who decided that dragons have blood that colour …

Royal Gala

July 30, 2016 2 comments
Mmm, which one shall I go for?

Hmm, which one shall I go for?

I’ve caught Florence jumping for pears – almost as bad as the wild boars.

Here she’s contemplating the Royal Gala apples which I hope are a bit too high for her.

Lots of little holes to mend

July 29, 2016 Leave a comment
Prime targets

Prime targets

These jewelled pullovers, of very soft wool, were the main victims of the moth attack.

Now that they’ve been frozen and then washed (to kill off eggs and larvae because washing at a high temperature isn’t possible) there are more holes than I realised. Fortunately they’re all quite small.

I’ve got a reasonable wool match for the pink, but I’m going to have to mend the green with embroidery thread.

Not on a hot evening like this, though.

Clothes moth larva

July 28, 2016 Leave a comment
In its own woolly pully

In its own woolly pully

Sorting through some clothes that had been in a box behind the wardrobe, out fell what I thought at first were dead clothes moths.

We looked at several under the microscope and they turned out to consist of little rolls of wool fibres.

Suddenly a head popped out of one of them, followed by a Slinky-like body which retracted as soon as we touched it.

It seemed to have a head the other end as well, but that must have been the tail. It moved by dragging its wool roll along.

All unknown to us, we’d been harbouring Case Bearing Clothes Moths whose larvae had been making little tubes out of our clothes.

Wild boars

July 27, 2016 Leave a comment
In the middle@: the pear tree branch broken by the wild boars

In the middle: the pear tree branch broken by the wild boars

3 a.m. Taylor barking and a loud noise of crunching in the orchard.

I dash out with a torch in my night attire and see dark shadows melting into the greater darkness.

In the morning: a broken pear branch and on the ground, lots of green pears with decisive bites in them.