Today is Steph’s last full day here; no excursions, just slow time, warm sun, coffee and biscotti, and one last walk around the edge of the farm.
There are grapevines backing onto the farm in several places. They are heavy with blue black bunches, awaiting the vendange. Even Munson was attracted by their thick heavy scent to suck out some juice directly from the vine.
Some of the dry pond beds are criss-crossed with boar tracks, and moments later we saw a giant boar-headed cloud. At the time it looked like one that Terry Gilliam’s animated God (a glowing W.G. Grace)would peer out of.
In the last pond, Munson managed to find the point of most-subsidence, rather disappointing for a breed designed to avoid unsafe ice-crossings. He managed to get himself dirtier in thirty seconds than he did in a week of walking Offa’s Dyke with me last year.
The cthulhippo toy that Steph brought for Munson is so violently crimson that it seems to overwhelm my camera receptors. It’s about as tricky to catch on film as a vampire. I think it may actually be close to Hollywood Cerise, a colour more associated with elephants than hippos.