Side by side, we sat and painted the view out the window.
Sunday afternoon ebbed toward evening.
We had planned to cycle down to the river to paint, light rain gave us the excuse not to.
A gentle weekend. Rapture is probably best left untranslated, but there were good things to eat:
- roasted cauliflower with sun-dried tomato and lemon vinaigrette
- nutmeg pot de creme
- homemade Snickers
All from the same, excellent blog. Make the Snickers.
Before breakfast on Saturday, we spirit-leveled, top-soiled and repotted my horse chestnut into its new, 230l pot. There was an established ants nest among the roots. The trunk is almost as thick as my wrist. Only one leaf fell from the entire plant.
We bought some food, a sugar thermometer, then had a pint at the Jolly Sailor at Saltford. We stood with our pints on the floating jetty and watched a group of sensible-looking students muster the pluck to try the rope swing that hangs from a huge ash out over the Avon. We wanted someone to fall…
The graceful one whose slight frame flew Tinkerbell-like over the water?
The heavier-set lad whose lower torso appeared to collude with gravity?
The hesitant, beige-wearer who dithered on the bank before half-heartedly swinging back and forth?
None fell. It was disappointing.
We had the last of the mackerel from Falmouth for dinner, then made the homemade Snickers. Make it.
There is the chestnut.
Now the week is already Tuesday, and I am alone with a day to do some writing. Before I start, I wanted to bring the things I cherish into focus, a deep breath drawn in.
Now to begin.