Nothing much has happened since I last wrote. The mother-in-law wanders the fields looking for cattle, and the husband is away on errands. I do a little office work, and then read, and read, and read. Now that it’s chillier, I pull on chubby jumpers and stomp around town in black boots. Our world gets dark earlier and earlier. A few days ago the groundskeepers raked up the mown grass around the star fort; no more wild paradise teeming with wildflower and studded by stray black feathers from the rookery. Once we lurch out of the office and into the sitting room, we huddle around the space heater, watching telly or reading. Meanwhile, elsewhere, first hearthfires burn and mushrooms rise and proliferate in the gloaming.





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