A summer cold, so confined to quarters. There's a lot of it about. Herbie's becoming quite stiff, even with all the Cortaflex, but he's still here. So's my sister.
It sounds a bit gloomy, but I am starting to think about winter. The hawthorn berries are turning red, and already the rowan trees beside the church are heavy with scarlet clusters. It's a month early for all that. I've just ordered two loads of logs, and a copy of Laura Ingalls Wilder's "The Long Winter". It's not just a nostalgia read, it's an essential part of my winter preparations. This year I'm picking out a winter library. We don't normally have extreme winters here, so when folks from further north say, "Well, gosh, don't you guys have snow tyres/ snow shoes/ window quilts/ snow blowers" or whatever, the answer is, no. But this year I'm going to read up and prepare. So far, I have a year's supply of Earl Grey teabags in a kitchen cupboard. I may have a little more work to do.