Transitions

 

Isabella and Olivia in an Apricot Tree

We found a Private Beach

A Herd of Cows With Long Horns

The Mist In The Morning, Like Sea

Sitting quietly by the window listening to the wind come in gusts. It comes from a long way away, from the coast, and our hill is the highest point, so one can hear it coming before it has arrived. Quite exciting.

I am crochet-ing a little something special for grand child number three, feeling very peaceful, like this end of summer. A time of transition. Preparation. Relief from the great heat of summer which beat me into the shadows.  

It is no wonder they call the autumn here the little spring. It is with the same kind of joy that one welcomes it. Cool fresh days when one can work in the garden and not notice the hours passing. When one can walk a distance without that heat bearing down on your back. And no more of the constantly sweaty face! Phew... 

I finally managed to get my head around drip irrigation for the fruit trees. I don't know why I felt it such a challenge. I bought 100m of tubing and some little drippers, laid out the tube along the lines the trees are planted, just below the swales, connected it to the tap, turned on the water and hey presto! No more dragging 70m of hose from tree to tree. It is so much more efficient, too. I have also mulched the trees with old brambly straw, which I hope the chickens will leave alone. I now wonder why I didn't do this years ago!

Down in the bottom the chestnut trees are bristling with chestnuts. Soon they will fall. The wild boar and I will gather them up. The ones I gathered last year and par-boiled and peeled then froze, were very successful.  I made some delicious chocolate puddings with them.

R has gone to England to pick apples and pears and that is another transition. I miss him and the routines we have, but I also relish the time by myself and the different routines one creates when alone.  I have been spinning and playing the guitar a little bit.

Life is good.