Moving on

I finished Alan Titchmarsh this morning; guilty thoughts hit me constantly- I should be out there now, working in the overgrown, pots need watering, wizened tomato plants, dead nasturtiums, garden- not reading about working in the garden.



We are experiencing a glorious Indian summer this week so why am I sitting reading and writing on a computer? I am treating myself as I carried out the removal of a massive pile of ironing last night dashing away with the smoothing iron almost till the witching hour. Until this week I had thought the ironing basket heaped with white cutoffs and palmtree shirts would be laid to rest till next year.



The roses have come into their own.



We stood at the kitchen window and watched nature in the raw; a sparrow hawk tearing a woodpigeon apart- oh heck! I don't interfere with nature - survival of the fittest and all that (except when wellfed cats 'play' with their victims) but killing does not rest easy with me.



There are drifts of leaves brushing pavements and lawns; there is a nod at the change of season.



I am moving on to my gift from K & P......'The Faithless Wife' by Jo Eames.