In which I must be realistic

There are about seventeen things I would like to write about. There are matters to discuss, thorny existential questions to chew over with the Dear Readers. But this week is impossible. What with book, HorseBack work, the new foal, Red the Mare, who is on a very strict regime on account of a small wig-out on Monday, which made me realise I had been letting things slide and taking her for granted and had to sharpen up my ideas, some intensely dull and time-consuming admin, Stanley the Dog and about ten other vital matters, there is no space for the blog just now. Oh, and there is The Ashes, for goodness’ sake.

So here are some pictures instead, from the last few days:

A Dear Reader asked what these were. They are lovely astrantias:

Stanley the very Manly:

Red the Mare, back to her best behaviour:

Watching Stanley the Dog do his crazy catching bluebottles shtick:

Autumn the Filly:

Evening light in the field:

Dozing:

Stanley, goofing about in the feed shed:

Posing. Sorry about that:

This was Stanley’s face during the Wimbledon final:

Myfanwy the Pony has no interest in tennis, but is looking philosophical. I suspect she may be considering the answer to the Universal Why:

The hill: