From one of the mildest winters in my memory we’ve jumped down the thermometer 10 degrees or so, although it’s not a patch on last year, when a brisk minus two was the daily high. Even so, the world outside today is covered with a brittle of ice, like a white cold creme brulee.
The fuchsias that had decided that it was spring have been scorched by the ice and defrosted into a pulpy mush, but these delicate pink berries seem to be holding up. I don’t actually know what they are; they grow over the fence each year to greet the new year, and I think they’re beautiful. Answers on a postcard/in the comments if you’ve any ideas.
The barbeque, sat outside patiently waiting all through the summer for the promised warm weather, could do double duty as a freezer, and it is to my great regret that Kitty’s trousers
We had Kitty’s slide out in the lounge today so a lot of the day has been spent first lifting her up to the top, and then stretching out a watchful hand or two just in case when she figured out how to climb the steps. I did manage a little sewing last night and this afternoon while Mademoiselle la princess took a petite nap.
Her newest trousers are finished, I just need some daylight and a cheerful girl to take some pictures, but there’ve been distractions today, aside from the slide, the first instalment of Kitty’s Christmas present to me arrived yesterday, and it’s an addictive read: