Once upon a time Widder Island used to be farmland, then some bright spark divided it up into 5 acre farmlets. Years later some of the descendents of the bright sparks decided to sub-divide their farmlets, stick driveways down the middle and sell off the individual lots. (Not complaining, the sub-dividings allow Mrs Widds, Widdercat, and I, to enjoy these beautiful spring days within a cuppa-tea-and-a-short-amble distance of the lake)
On one side of our lake steep hills kick back into the coastal mountain range, and the other side has rampant farmland (that hasn’t been sub-divided) currently being seeded with this season’s crops. These days it’s possible to tell exactly which farm is using which ‘soil enrichment product’ (I just made that term up) just by breathing too deep.
I’m all for organic fertiliser, it’s a better deal on every level, however … sheesh! Does it stink, or what!!!!!!
I walked out our front door this morning to collect the mail, turned around, walked back inside, and waited for the northerly breeze that usually arrives around mid-afternoon.
“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose, by any other name would smell as sweet” – Juliet – (II,ii, 1-2)… from ‘Romeo and Ethel The Pirate’s Daughter’ #, by Bill Shakespeare.
# – Guess what movie?