Yellow Flowers


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Originally uploaded by pinkaboo_uk.

This morning was another wet and drizzly day so I was all set to take Samuel to the Plymouth Aquarium this afternoon when Grandad got home from work, but come the afternoon the sun had fought back and enticed us out onto the moors to get some exercise and fresh air.

As we were piling on our coats, hats, and mittens Sam became a source of great amusement as we realised just what he and Molly were actually doing while scurrying innocuously around at our feet. Sam had discovered Molly’s bucket of food in the utility room, was filling a cup with kibble and delivering it to her waiting bowl in the kitchen. Once his offering was eagerly gobbled by a very happy black dog, he would then return and repeat.

While Sam was refilling his cup Grandad took away Molly’s bowl and the three of us watched in tears of laughter as Sam trotted into the kitchen, missed the bowl and, still clutching the cup of cereal, started searching around the house for it. He was intent on completing his mission and the kibble had to go in the right bowl. Grandad quietly set the bowl back down in place and on Sam’s next pass through the kitchen it was spied and the food neatly deposited for Molly.

Of course, the video camera was dead.

We had to wrestle Sam away from the dog food and strap him down into his car seat before Molly got to eat the entire bucket and turn into a big hairy blob.

Plasterdown was our destination this afternoon. We thought Sam would enjoy a kick around with a ball as it’s nice and flat and not too wet or muddy there. Sam however had other plans. Since Grandad took him for a walk on Whitchurch Down and introduced him to gorse bushes he has become fascinated with the little yellow gorse flowers. While we tried to entice him to play with his new rugger ball only Molly got excited and had to be fended off. Samuel completely ignored us and instead charged merrily from bush to bush, picking a flower from each one and then occasionally deciding to deliver his prize to Nanna or I. He jabbered away to himself the whole time.

I remember having to collect buckets and buckets of the tiny flowers to be brewed into gorse wine by mum and dad when I was little. I think the wine was a tasty success but we never repeated it. Probably because the gorse bush is an incredibly prickly plant comprised 98% of long thorns and it’s really not easy to pick a bloom without spiking yourself. Every time Sam would race up to a bush I would be worrying he might trip and fall into it, or that he would hurt himself on the thorns as he reached in, but nimble dexterous Sam seemed to have no such concerns.

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