|When I walk north.|
|When I walk south. I will concede that though the land is not actually flat, the roads are straight.|
In my pyjamas and housecoat, going to do some reading and put the light out early.
Ordered Crow Lake, by Mary Lawson, in from the library and am just starting into it. Had borrowed the next one in the series, lent to me along with a nice stack of other books for leisure reading. A wealth of books have I for the next while.
Just finished I Hate to Leave ThisBeautiful Place. Love that title.
That poor lonely widower grouse who lost his entire family this winter just outside our driveway is still pounding his chest out there, trying desperately to attract a mate. It’s getting late in the season for that, isn’t it? And I begin to despair on his behalf.