What a difference a day makes

Yesterday we had rain from before dawn until wellafter dusk and Fern and I got more than a little damp on both our walks.  But by the time I went to bed the rain had stopped.  Instead, the wind had risen.  I always enjoy lying in bed with the rain lshing down and the wind blowing a hooley when I'm in that halfway stage between being awake and being asleep.  I enjoy it, although I always have a slightly guilty feeling that what I am enjoying - rain and wind outside and comfort inside - is a cause of misery to some, those for whom the shop doorway provides a roof and the pavement a mattress.  There was no chance for me to feel either enjoyment or guilt yesterday as the rain had stopped - and anyway, I was asleep as soon as I lay down, possibly even before my head was on the pillow.

When I drew back the curtains this morning I thought I was in a different world.  The sun was shining and there was a clear blue sky with just a hint of cloud the far side of the Downs.  Granted, we still had a strong wind and it had obviously blown hard during the night as I noticed our neighbour's garden chairs had been scattered.  The blackbird at the top of the sycamore was having to hang on pretty tightly as his perch swayed to and fro. 

(I have often wondered how birds manage to cling on in high winds.  Are they particularly strong for their size or do they have some form of mechanism that locks their claws in place?)

The cattle in the nearest field seemed unperturbed by the wind and were apparently grazing happily enough.  They are a deep, rich brown - although I suppose the colour is officially red - and I wonder if they are Sussex cattle.  I'm not good at recognising the different breeds of cows.  I can manage Hereford, Friesian, Highland and Dexter but even then it's entirely possible that what I see as, say, a Hereford is actually a cross.  My cousin-in-law started a herd of Dexters but introduced a Highland bull.  And what a softy Jonathan was!  But although many of the calves looked like Dexters, they were really crossbreeds.  Genetic engineering, I suppose, in the same was as different breeds of dogs have resulted from crossing.  The latest are the Labradoodle and the cockerpoo - a particularly ugly name in my opinion, not that anyone's asking.  The Labradoodle is, of course, a cross between a Labrador retriever and a poodle while the cockerpoo, a cross between a cocker spaniel and a poodle, is favoured as an assistance dog for deaf persons.

We once had a flat-coated retriever, another breed which started as a cross; in this case, the Labrador and the Gordon setter.  We should have done some research into the breed before we acquired Rags.  It was only later that we discovered dogs of this breed are notoriously difficult to train.  I took him to puppy classes and at the end of the course, when all the other owners were invited to take their dogs to the next stage of classes, I was told there was no point me taking Rags.  But he had a wonderfully friendly nature and especially loved children.  His biggest treat was to be taken to meet our children from school when what seemed like every child wanted to pet him.

While I have been typing the rain started again, although it has stopped now.  The forecast is for rain all day with winds of up to 60mph.  But at least I can be thankful that we live at the top on a hill and there is no chance that we will be flooded.

~~~~~

Moving upstream from Champtoceaux and crossing to the right bank of the Loire at Ancenis, the is the view upstream.