Frolicking

As I write this post, I look out my window and see again that neighbours in the court opposite have let their two bunnies out to nibble the verge. Zara is entirely unaware of them, so far, for she and Biscuit and I have been frolicking out the back...

 ...where the grass has been allowed to grow. Hang on a minute - it's been allowed to grow all over the place! - but that's a lawn-mowing story.

 I'm not always a big fan of 'cute', but everyone weakens somewhere among the flowers -

- where thrilling adventures are to be had.

It helps to have a partner, someone furry, inquisitive and wide-eyed.

There may of course be occasional procedural differences...

...but on the whole not a second is wasted. At least you'll get some sort of glimpse of my garden, which glimpse I've been avoiding out of sheer embarrassment. It's more the sort of  tangle of a place you can run around in, tail flying, than the sort of elegant composition that will ever grace a magazine.

And that's enough for me, now, just to know it can bring delight, that it can be the stage for delight.

And speaking of 'cute', you can see above why I fell in love with Zara, can't you?
By the way, despite madcap rough and tumbles, neither of the gals gets hurt. So I'm allowed to turn my back on them and get gardening, without anxiety. And that makes it a frolic for me too!