No sale and no purchase.

We went to Perth today to try to sell an accordion and purchase a driving belt for a lawn scarifier....nothing like a bit of variety.
The music shop had advertised for secondhand accordions so it was plucked from its place of refuge in the loft and off we set, Chic with high hopes and me with some nostalgia.
My younger brother and I had been given this instrument in our early teens but neither of us persevered to master it. I reached the dizzy height of staggering through the Thunder and Lightening Polka, but not with the customary timing!
We had been reared on a diet of Scottish Country Dance music on the radio and I rather fancied myself leading a band in all the local hotspots,(village halls in the district with their monthly dances). I still like the accordion sound---I know, it's not very cool but it takes all kinds!
Chic humphed the big box into the shop, and the old master opened it up, took out our exhibit, examined it, ran practised fingers up and down the keyboard and said, "It's pretty old." I was a bit miffed, but when I did a quick calculation it was indeed a few years over 50! "But it is in very good condition, with perhaps a slight bit of tuning required"....hardly surprising since it has lain untouched, except for a brief encounter with a friend who played a few jigs and waltzes on it a couple of years ago. "You could advertise it in the Free paper. You might get £50 for it." Apparently, like everything else, accordion construction has "moved on".
The attempt to purchase the drive belt was no more fruitful. "We don't stock that make anymore. You could try ringing the phone number on the instruction leaflet." That's what we get for buying a £20+ piece of garden machinery, when all other models were over £50! So our crop of lawn moss grows unabated with no predator to keep it in check.

Out like a lion.

Well this year March came in like a lamb but, true to the old saying, it is going out like the proverbial lion. I hate strong winds but they have at least dried up the mud that lay on all my dog walking routes and, more importantly for the farmers, the fields have dried sufficiently for the spring work to go ahead with tractors working till late in the evening, even after darkness.
They have bright lights fixed to the rear of the tractor cabs to enable them to watch the machinery.
I passed by a field today where rolling was taking place and at times all I could see was a cloud of dust. It reminded me of one year when I was a youngster and had been given the job of rolling a field-----with horsepower!...these were the pre tractor days! (Yes, I'm Methuselah's sister!) The reason I wanted the job was so as I could ride the Clydesdale, Queen, back to the stable at lunchtime and teatime. Queen was an old experienced worker and could have done the job herself. What I remember most was the awful dust that seemed to get everywhere...in my hair, in my ears, up my nose and in my mouth as all the clods had been broken down to a fine stour,(ie.dust) and the fierce winds blew it mercilessly. However, after I had unyoked her from the roller, with the help of a neighbouring worker in an adjoining field, I clambered aboard the sweating animal and still remember the pleasure of riding her the half mile home, even although the sweat stung my bare legs. There were no jeans, as we know them, back then.

A cloud of dust followed the tractor and roller.

Good job he has a cab!

When I'm at the computer I look out on these crows' nests, perched precariously in the tops of these tall trees.

A closer view of the heap of twigs that passes as home to the crow chicks. They manage to survive all the buffetting of the March gales and are only occasionally blown down. The chicks or eggs in these nests have been whipped about during the past week. I bet they're glad to feel the wind abating!

This celandine has found itself a sheltered spot.

There was quite a patch of them growing in the shelter of the chestnut tree roots on the banks of the burn.

Visitors.

I have three additional dogs in the household at the moment. Two are temporary, while their owners are on holiday, and the other is permanent.
Bronco and Cooper are the holidaymakers and the puppy has come to stay. As yet I have no pet name for him......any suggestions?

Puppy, son of Mo.

Bronco, Mo's litter brother.

Cooper, son of Holly and Mo.

Cooper again.

He looks very like his mother, Holly (shown here).

Some of the gang.

Another of some of the others.

Puppy with the others, behind bars!

The second whelping of Mary Alice!!!

She , or rather her owner, should be reported to the Amaryllis Club for over production in one year! This second whelping has taken place on an even longer stem than the first. Luckily there were no complications, with all "pups" being born head first.(Actually, the fourth has still to emerge). The listing danger has become even more serious and Chic has been called on to give some stability to the situation. Goodness knows what will happen when she gives birth for the third time, which should be in about a fortnight.

The three heads with the fourth yet to burst open.

Side view showing the long stamens and even longer stigma.

Hubby's new job: keeping the whole plant upright. It could last for a few weeks yet so I hope he's comfy!

I almost forgot........

Spencer, now aged 11 years and 4 months, did me proud yesterday yet again. He won Best Veteran Dog at the Scottish Toydog Show . The overall winner, Best Veteran in Show, was Astrid Ogilvie's Pomeranian bitch, Champion Pakov's I'm Viva.

Pyatshaw White Heat the next day.

Scottish Toydog Open Show.

Every dog has his day, so they say, and this was, for me, George's day! He won the Junior dog class and later was eligible to challenge for Best Puppy in Show as he was unbeaten by a pup. It was eventually won by a Peke but I was delighted when he was awarded Reserve Best Puppy in Show.
Best in Show was a Maltese with Reserve going to a Chinese Crested.

George back home.

George , after he won Junior papillon dog.

His rosette for winning Reserve Best Pup in Show.

The remains of the excellent food, made by the committee, in the cafe.

Anna and her bedding stall.

Pyatshaw Ravel (Mo) was Best Papillon Dog.

Wee Lucy of Adinaken was Best of Breed in the papillons.

The younger junior handlers.

The judge coming face to face with a peke during junior handling.

Some of the junior handlers.

The bolognese being handled by a junior.

The winner of this Miniature Pinscher class.

The judge at work.

A slightly older Min. Pin. with his tail docked.

Around the rings at Scottish Toydog Open Show.

This veteran peke has just recovered from a twisted gut operation.