The Wind in the Pines

A sunny, windy day, reading the Cone Gatherers while showered by pine needles. A joy to read something so well and carefully written. That’s craft. A voice as stripped of emotion as a winter tree. I liked that.
Heading out at the end of the day, and finding a lamp to light the terrace, I managed to blow the electricity. And the trip wasn’t on the apartment fuse box. Gagh. It would have to wait for the morning.
After a meal at the most local restaurant, we managed to catch the last of the England game (how lucky) when the news came through of Scotland’s winner. A glorious o.g. - we’ll take that.