A breezy day. Everything has that blown-out, blown-back look to it.
In the undergrowth, broom-pods rattle like crazy maracas.
And what’s that rustling beneath the willowherb and gorse?
:: I am already making the second mitten to form an actual pair. Hold still my beating heart – there will be a pattern.
:: My peppers are ripening nicely. Hurrah!
:: Have you seen this? I shall be there for the whole thing. Weaving! Sheep! Wool sorting and grading! How I excited am I?