Now, where was I? Some distance away, I think. A curious week has just passed, absorbed in work of my own, work of others', moving things forward but also waiting: this to be done; this to uncover that. And then a weekend of what felt like recuperation. Saturday to Lostwithiel, on the way home bought a battery charger (prompted by the flat-battery moment in the ferry queue; the purchase serving to kick-start, ha ha, that old impulse to draw things back together). Sunday spent in and around bed; the weak day after the worst of an illness, letting everything unwind - have I really been that wound up? There never was time to work on my knee, but we discovered the tension in my shoulders.
There are rats under the shed where we keep the grain, and this morning I see the neat round hole they have bored through the floor to get inside. Time do do something about that. Also perhaps time to do something - no, not perhaps - about the hens' living quarters. Not well-constructed; in fact, annoyingly badly constructed - and isn't "annoyingly" a bad word to find in a description of the early morning? The dog left a copious message on the floor of the utility room last night, so words like acceptance, harmony, peace have been temporarily returned to the dictionary. Turn to "Eurch!" if it's there. We were right on time for the bus, but only in the sense that we nearly missed it. And we need another bottle of floor-cleaner.
And isn't it wonderful how the sun emerges at just the right moment, and at just the right point in the sky, and at just the right slow speed from behind the cloud, to spread a glow across the desk and the keyboard in front of me? Just enough wind to move the leaves, where the light comes around the end of the house and iluminates them; just the right amount of silence to hear the birds.
Yes.
There are rats under the shed where we keep the grain, and this morning I see the neat round hole they have bored through the floor to get inside. Time do do something about that. Also perhaps time to do something - no, not perhaps - about the hens' living quarters. Not well-constructed; in fact, annoyingly badly constructed - and isn't "annoyingly" a bad word to find in a description of the early morning? The dog left a copious message on the floor of the utility room last night, so words like acceptance, harmony, peace have been temporarily returned to the dictionary. Turn to "Eurch!" if it's there. We were right on time for the bus, but only in the sense that we nearly missed it. And we need another bottle of floor-cleaner.
And isn't it wonderful how the sun emerges at just the right moment, and at just the right point in the sky, and at just the right slow speed from behind the cloud, to spread a glow across the desk and the keyboard in front of me? Just enough wind to move the leaves, where the light comes around the end of the house and iluminates them; just the right amount of silence to hear the birds.
Yes.