So this evening I walked home along the lane, and the smell, sort of mushroomy and growing; and warm and not-quite-dark, not-quite-light feel to the air, was wonderful. It's a magical time of night, when all is quiet, the day is almost done and there is a supper to cook and a cat to fuss, and life is almost not-too-bad after all..
A line from Joni Mitchell runs in my head as I walk
..death and birth and death and birth and death and birth...
I washed out my rusted cloth batch today, and hung it out about 5 minutes before the rains came. So it's nicely rinsed, at least..
Now perhaps, I shall start to sew