Round red sun, getting bright as soon as it left the horizon, and again, every blade of grass with its illuminated drop of water, dew, encouraging it to grow. Everything wet. And the mellow fruitfulness of the apples. I washed down the press at the end of yesterday and left it out to do more today. This last (?) heatwave of the year, unless global warming has come on suddenly and literally and we're like this for the year. We shall have an abundance of apple juice, stewed apple, et cetera, for Christmas, and maybe it will be more in keeping to drink something cold.
Watched the stars last night. Not really a clear night, but I wonder if there's a telescope with provision for its owner to be lying flat on his back on a trampoline. Perhaps not. I had forgotten, or perhaps never knew, how much of a difference it make to the night to give the eyes time to adjust. The only constellation I really know, because I had it pointed out to me as a child, is the plough. Strikes me now that it's also the only constellation I've pointed out to a child. For how many generations has this been going on?