The empty supper bowl

I hope that a 'blame culture' is not in operation in your household.

I'm afraid it is chez Gail and Bertie.

Take last night, for example.

[Some context: I am fed twice a day, first thing in the morning, then again, around 5-6 pm.]

So yesterday come 10 pm, my bowl had not been refilled, and it was not until after bedtime that a certain person remembered my evening meal.

And can you imagine, rather than profuse apologies coupled with double helpings, I got this:

"But Bertie, you are hopeless, why didn't you remind me by licking your empty bowl or something, like a normal dog?"

One tries so hard to be good.

Bertie's sideways look at photosynthesis

Bouncing Bertie Boffin here!



Have you ever imagined you were a plant?

No, don't panic, humans who were wee pups in the sixties, this is not going to be one of those dreaded  'now pretend you are a flower' musical movement exercises. This is SCIENCE!

Here in the North of Scotland we are enjoying an uncommonly warm and sunny summer. Of course, being Scotland, it does still rain from time to time.

The result is that all our plants have been growing like crazy.

(The photos in this post were all taken in the local park. As usual, I am banned from showing our garden 'cos, even more so than usual, it is so shamefully unkempt).

Anyway, today I want to stop and contemplate the amazing power of photosynthesis.

You see, unlike us dogs who are dependent on humans to supply carbon-based substances (i.e. food) to keep us going and growing, a plant need not panic about whether Gail has forgotten to order a new bag of kibble. No indeed, it simply waits around for some sun to appear and help it perform the magic scientifically awesome trick of synthesising carbohydrates from just carbon dioxide and water.

Of course you might think that hanging around waiting for your fix of sun is a rather boring survival strategy, especially in Scotland where it could be a long wait, and this is probably why predators evolved (OK, I may be missing out a few important steps in the evolutionary story here).

Personally, I am finding exposure to warm sunshine enervating rather than energizing.

Oh and I don't suppose that sun and CO2 come in beef, lamb or turkey flavoured.

I mean, no plant is going to be looking forward with eager anticipation to that especially yummy wavelength of light (600 or 700 nm perhaps) for dinner, now are they?

It's just not fair

So neighbour Bunty came round for a morning visit ...

... and stole my breakfast ...

... and yet it was ME who ended up in the Sin Bin.

What do you mean Gail, that I am not telling the whole story?