More sunshine, and it is lovely.
We did not need to get up at half past six this morning, which was brilliant, at least until I discovered that the later-in-the-day sun does not lend itself to comfortable fell running. I wheezed and struggled and my face turned the colour of Barbie’s fairy ball gown.
It is nesting season, and everywhere you look there are birds flapping ponderously about with their beaks stuffed full of twigs and stalks. Two pigeons are having a go at building something behind next door’s television aerial, not terribly successfully, judging by the number of dropped sticks all over the shed roof.
We are watching them with interest, they are making a terrific amount of noise about it. Mark says that this is because they have just got married and have not yet worked out about when the other one is actually listening. They seem to be a happy couple so far, and keep stopping to be sociable with one another. I hope the chap next door doesn’t notice, it would be dreadfully sad if he decided to be unfriendly about it.
We have had the French window doors open all day, to let in the light and air and the soft affectionate sounds of the pigeons. For the first time this year it has been as warm in the garden as it is in the house, and I have felt the savage worries of the winter begin slowly to melt away. We have not needed to light the fire, and the endless labour of the firewood has finally eased, along with the war against the incessant dust.
This is lovely. I do not like dusting.
Mark had to go to work for a while, because of a caravan site having troubles with their internet, and whilst he was out I thought that I could do some nesting of my own.
I have long been avoiding noticing the thick dust all over the dresser in the kitchen. It is right next to the fire, and over the winter it has slowly acquired a fine coating of powdery ash.
Some of the china which resides there gets used all of the time, but some hardly at all, and everything that is not used very often was grimy with firewood dust.
I have been ignoring it because it is a huge task. Everything needs to be taken down, washed, and replaced on newly-polished shelves: and when the fire is lit it needs to be dusted again almost before I have finished doing it.
The fire is out now.
I boiled some kettles for hot water and set about washing china.
It was good to rinse the gritty dust away and see everything shine again. If the weather stays kindly-warm I will not need to worry about it again for ages.
I had not quite finished when Mark came back, and so he took his box into the garden to cut handles and feet into it. I am going to paint pictures on it when it is done.
I would have liked to spend some of today painting pictures, but by the time I had finished the dresser I was beginning to feel shivery with sleepiness, and we went back to bed in order that we would not fall asleep at work tonight.
There is always tomorrow for painting.
It is nice to have a clean nest.
