Wild irises

Almost the only flowers in our drought-stricken jungle, and they’re only there because they grow wild. if we tried to cultivate them, I’m sure they wouldn’t survive.
 
An earlyish start, and if the dogs had had their way, it would have been earlier still. Knowing we were home, they took it in turns to bark from about 5 a.m. on. I had to bring them up from the run and calm them down, then dress HH’s bedsore and grab a bit of toast to eat in the car in order to reach the tee on time for our monthly friendly competition.
 
I never expected to make it past the 9th hole, and if it had been as hot at the start as it was yesterday, or when we finished today, I’m sure I wouldn’t have done. As it was, I managed the whole 18, largely because a friendly caddie insisted on pulling my trolley – there’s so little work for them these days that I couldn’t very well turn him away. He’s a good and enthusiastic photographer, and also talks non-stop, either about his golf or his photos, so although I like him very much, it doesn’t do much for the golf. Anyway, it was a pleasant game, even if my putting left everything to b e desired (except when it didn’t matter – mind over matter never works with my golf).
 
Our semi-invalid friend and her nurse joined us at the club for lunch, then HH went off to a committee meeting and I went roaming with the camera. Without falling into the very malodorous river, I couldn’t quite get a shot of the wagtail entering the nest, which is well hidden behind cones and white fluff - see the extra photo. Now I’m hanging about the club waiting to take HH home. And no wifi, darn it, so I'll have to wait till we got home, where we might watch an old episode of Downton, after a hiatus of three months or so.