1. I have just the right paper -- tiny Japanese pages, not much larger than business cards, printed with wisteria in full bloom.
Tuesday, November 25, 2025
Right paper, bin night and correspondence.
Monday, November 24, 2025
Wood warmth, slope and list.
1. It is a cold day with sneaking drizzle, but drifts of orange and yellow leaves bring bright heat to the woods.
2. The swish of Bettany turning in at the bottom of the ski slope.
Friday, November 21, 2025
Waiting in the library, ice and dirty colours.
1. I have to wait in the library for a few minutes and find myself flittering among the shelves snapping pics of books that I might like to borrow but will probably forget about.
2. We are nearly fifteen and not far off fifty, but we still stop to crack an icy puddle in the park.
3. I am struck by how much I like the ink in the pen I'm using. It's a Stabilo fineliner 88/62 called grey violet, and honestly, these dirty colours -- the drabs, the greys, the kharkis and the ochres are underloved in a world of brights.
Thursday, November 20, 2025
Snowfall, badger and hot chocolate.
1. I open the front door to take a parcel and am surprised by wet snow falling in rags and tufts.
2. A badger has given the edges of the paths in the park a working over, turning the soil and tearing up the grass in search of worms. It must be frustrating for the groundsmen; but I like knowing there's a badger or two about.
3. It's a cold, cold morning -- just right for serving hot chocolate.
Wednesday, November 19, 2025
Tea, words and supper.
1. The hot cup of tea waiting for me on the breakfast table.
2. My words aren't coming easily today, and I can't feel confident about anything I'm writing. But I try anyway. As long as I aim for clarity, stick to the sources and remember the reader, it will do. There will always be some days when good enough is good enough.
3. A bag of chips on the supper table.
Tuesday, November 18, 2025
Cold, sky and Leonids.
1. The weather has changed and the cold is like a smack in the face.
2. I stop on our hill to compare the sky with my astronomy app. End up marvelling and gossiping about celestial matters with my neighbour and a passer-by.
3. I glance up as I lift the bin and a shooting star falls down the southern sky.
Monday, November 17, 2025
Breakfast, drift and pour.
1. I start to say no because I've already eaten breakfast and I don't want the work of cooking French toast for everyone else -- but that's not what is being asked.
2. Day off. I drift between a memoir and a historical novel and a needlework project, half listening to the children's priorities: space ship insurance, a Ralph Lauren hoodie on Vinted, that brand of cola, what one might wear for a funeral.
Wet Sunday, resting and re-do.
1. We wake to the sound of heavy rain -- just right for a simple Sunday. 2. I put my dough in a bowl to rest, and take a quiet half-hour mys...
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1. An enormous fat bumble bee at work. She is so bulky that she can knock dead blossoms out of the way as she gets right in to the new jasmi...
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1. The shortest night and the longest day. I was up at Wellington Rocks with Anna, Paul and Jason. We couldn't see the sun through the m...
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1. I promised myself I wouldn't moan and grumble about it -- but I do. And as if by magic, a very kind friend produces the required blaz...