Last night Gene and I cooked our dinner out-of-doors for the first time in a while. It is lovely to have a yard of our own. “How do you like your land, squire?” I asked him.
“I like it,” he said, roaming around and yanking up weeds, even though they’re growing on top of the mulch that will have to be plowed up anyway. It’s his landowner’s instinct, I believe. Before you know it he will be preserving cover for the foxes and throwing a summer fete and demanding I take a more active role in the village school.
Well, as you can see, I am hip-deep in Victorian novels presently. In fact, I forgot to blog yesterday, so occupied was I in sitting outside in the sun and reading Tess of the D’Urbervilles. But today a big stupid cloud has rolled in and I have nothing to do but natter at you.