On social media sites you get an impression of the temper of the times and also the vast variety of people who log on and express themselves. Never boring, usually interesting. But it can be frustratingly annoying when you get 'followers' who quickly betray themselves as predators of one kind or another. Men who latch on to women and girls looking for some adventures, women who follow, eager to sell intimately fleshly wares they don't hesitate to highlight, and people who portray themselves as passionately dedicated to the welfare of others, both people and animals who desperately require funding to enable them to get on with their vital work on behalf of society: send money, please.

 

My brief biopic on Twitter states my year of birth, which makes me 86 years old. That's no deterrence to men who are either illiterate or simply don't care to interrupt their endless search for likely hits to provide them with the thrills they seem to desperately need to carry on with life. My big question is how is it that the women eager to sell their favours and the men anxious to receive them fail to link up? I get a little fed up when I'm incautious enough to return a follow only to find a DM on Twitter from a lonely or just plain predator male wanting to be 'friends', with the kind of blandishments that bespeak their intentions.

 

Another one of those overcast, humid days, pleasant enough and ready to be taken advantage of. So because of forecasted rain and the potential for thunderstorms in the afternoon, we decided to make off for the ravine shortly after breakfast when rain seemed to be a far way off yet. Although we don't initially prep Jackie and Jillie with obvious indications we're about to have a trek through the forest, they pick up the most subtle signals and become gratifyingly excited about the prospect of going out. 

 

Jackie's finally got to the point where he sits expectantly in the mudroom waiting for me to put on his halter and collar. But Jillie hasn't changed one whit; she still leaps onto the sofa and turns on her back when I approach with her collar and halter. Once they're both prepared, they assemble together as we put on our boots, although there are occasions when Jillie still won't budge off the sofa until I fetch her.

 

More cinquefoil in bloom amidst the thimbleberries, providing form and colour within the green screen of the forest. The sun even came out from time to time in brief glimpses and its heat made quite a difference. The temperature finally nudged up to 20C, making our trek the pleasant adventure it is always meant to be. Like most such ventures through the forest trails from time to time familiar dogs show up to seat themselves biddably in front of Irving, patiently awaiting cookie treats.

 

Later in the day, despite the continued chance of rain and scudding dark clouds overhead, Irving applied the diatomaceous earth to the garden bed where ants have been demolishing our beautiful annuals. We'd noticed as well, that one of our little old flowering weeping pea trees has begun leaning inwardly and had achieved quite a lean on its convoluted trunk. We found an old iron stake stored in one of the garden sheds, Irving hammered it into the ground, and we managed to pull the trunk a bit more upright tying it to the stake for support with the use of a flat rubber shield and part of an old electrical wire.