Sun shining through branches on snow

To deny that there was this dark side of life would be like pretending that the cold of winter was somehow only a temporary illusion, a way station on the way to the higher "reality" of long, warm, pleasant summers. But summer, it turned out, was no more real than the snow that melted in wintertime.

I start the day talking to some people in Australia. And end it with a conversation with a guy in DC. In between I variously juggle words, numbers, and fleeting thoughts.

There are eggs in the chicken house. I give the sheep some apples. Victoria turns the compost and agrees to prune the hedges. I dig out the spare tiles needed to repair the warehouse floor. My polytunnel is in dire need of repairs.

As night falls, it begins to snow. I throw my rucsac into the car, and head for Kinghorn. I won’t be back till next week.