Dusty is a sentient being. Everything she does relates to something. That isn't always clear to us, because she lives in very different physical circumstances from our own. This should be kept in mind at all times when trying to understand her, instead of ascribing apparently unrelated behaviour to random animalisms.

The old-timers among the visitors of Dolphin Address know that I'm not easily short of a theory, but words cannot describe what happened a few yesterdays ago:

It looks like nice weather today. Like, not as in Facebooking, but because of recent we had the usual cloudbursts. Here too cough-ups bully the climate, but one learns to 'like' it for it so cozies inside and my little well runs better on it.

Life has been lashed out of the long spiked grass, it's swaying on its stalks like straw. Windblown chamomiles crowd at random as carelessly scattered solar sprinkles, inter-dotted by diffident daisies.

We humans like there to be reason or cause to events. They help us to make sense of what's happening and how to take action. Making sense runs on logic and we believe ours is the only kind to evaluate cause and effect. We try to place things we don't understand in such a perspective that they make sense. Like Dusty's behaviour.

It may occur to the regular visitors of 'Dolphin Address' that I have taken a sabbatical and I have even been accused of AWOL. That's not quite true. I am full time exchanging emails with a dear friend and journalist, a correspondence that we eventually hope to publish somehow.

Today after six weeks inland, 
indeed is one of coming down the mountain. And of a little forgotten how beautiful it can be from the meadow. The milky blue appears cross-hatched by swell and wind, though tufted here and there with whites of water.

Dolphins have just the smallest of ears and the best of hearing. The hardly visible pinholes function along the length of the jaws. This seems to be nicely illustrated in the following picture, where the lower jaw and the mouth line are distorted by vibrations in the water.

There is something alluring about the skin of a dolphin. One day, off Sladeen, near Dingle, I saw a swimmer who, upon seeing Fungi, pulled off his gloves, oblivious of where he tossed them, as he was bent on touching the dolphin’s skin. People often ask me how it feels to touch a dolphin.

It would have been an engaging Christmas story, about how at night a radiating sky made the van into a freezer, how rapidly I'd rise and change into my clothes not to be caught by the cold and how in the morning I first had to pierce the ice inside my water bottle to make tea. And that then I got an SMS from an angel asking if I wanted to sit a house and a cat, for December and January.