Worthing and I tried to take our minds off things by going to the Weymouth kite festival.
The donkeys were bedraggled.
The kites wouldn't fly.
The stallholders were cold and morose.
We came home.
Ceres has pulled up half my clover and torn the tops off the rest.
(She must have done it while we were on Pluto.)
I planted some Lilly of the Valley under the Bay Tree and put the birdcage over it.
(I think the cats are used to nasturtiums now - but a cluster of new plants might inspire them to dig!)
THE PLANTS OF PLUTO
(This'll be like the inventory of those outside my living room window. I was going to do the ones to the right hand side of the front door next - but - never mind - I'll do them later.)
First, I Must Explain the Nature of the Planet.
Pluto cannot be seen from Earth because it spins within a sphere of ice.
Through a telescope, it appears to be smooth and cold and uninhabited. It isn't.
The air between the ground and the sky is much like ours (pleasant and, for the most part, breathable). And the sky doesn't look a lot different either - just a bit mottled.
Like earth, it has its own eco-systems and a wide range of climates. Many are congenial. Some are not.
Plutonian days are darker than ours because it is on the outer reaches of the universe. But, sometimes, Pluto whizzes towards the sun and everything gets lighter for a while. Then it whizzes back to the gloomier part of space where it usually resides.
(I wasn't there when it did this.)
From the point of view of plants, the main differences between growing conditions on Earth and on Pluto are those caused by lower light levels and a higher concentration of methane in the rain.
I'll explain more on Wednesday.
(After I've rescued Didcott.)