Morning Mist

Two consecutive dry days. Is it too much to hope for another one? I'd forgotten what a pleasure it is to while away an hour or two in the garden, weeding the cabbage patch ( mostly that prolific shepherd's cress and creeping buttercup), collecting fallen twigs and branches, placing a straw mulch on a ridge. And pondering and pottering, of course.
Aedan was in Limerick at a school rugby match. He isn't home yet. My classes start late this evening.