Assorted Homely Goodness

What did I do today?

I read some. Currently I’m working through one of Stephan King’s best novels, the stand, for th second. I have the unabridged version and were it any other book it would be hellishly long however it being what it is, I can’t put it down and must’ve been reading it for upwards of 10 hours already.

I made raspberry (sorry, loganberry) jam. Out neighbors have lots of bushes planted in a polytunnel so we currently have a glut. He’s been delivering a box every couple of days and when the new one arrived today we still had a good sized bowl left over so I tipped ’em into the saucepan, covered ’em in water and let them boil until soft. Then add the same amount of sugar as fruit and boil until ready to set. Add a knob of butter, let stand for 10 minutes and put in the jar. As it turns out I had the exact right amount to fit into a 0.5 liter preserve jar.

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I have now decided that talking about the reading I’ve done and the half-hour I spent making jam isn’t much of an excuse for a say well spent, so I did this little bit of writing for y’all. I am also apparently now from the deep south of the US.

It’s a little misty outside, the other side of the valley visible from my window through nothing more than a thin veil of silvery-damp nothing. I can see where the cloud starts, the silver turns to grey a little way above the top of the horizon. Not any kind of dark worrisome gray, just an unshining colour than indicates the cloud and, no doubt, the fog on the tops of other hills.

It being summer, and not all too cold outside even for the weather, I do not feel than warm glowing sense of security one gets on a rainy winters day. Rather, I have my windows open and feel a little encompassed by the silver. It brightens my day in a different sort of way to how it physically darkens it.

Regardless I still have the feeling that one gets in their own bedroom the Virgina Woolf-vibe. A room of ones own. Never mind how messy it is or how I’m half way through decorating. Or even that their are spiders on the ceiling – being deadly-scared of them I am leaving them there to try and force myself to get over my fear.

As I break I look over my shoulder and see that the mist is thicker. My silver is gone and is being replaced by grey. I can see it blowing in, thicker and wetter. The horizon is obscured and I see only half-way up the valley side. But I still now it is there, as I know my room is no matter how far I go. Such security we oft take for granted but better to do so than to not have it to take for granted.

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