Temperature: a sunny 17.5/63.5. May has been the perfect mix of sunshine and spring showers and everything is a fresh, lush green.
Eating: from Nigella Summer.
Drinking: the first batch of rhubarb juice any day now.
Listening: to our resident cuckoo vocalizing away. Have never seen him, only heard his calls.
Watching: out for those pesky roe deer wreaking havoc in the garden. What a menace you've become. Shoo, there's nothing for you here!
Reading: Haven't taken this one out for a while, don't know why, it's a pleasure and a treasure.
Writing: to wish you a happy Spring Bank Holiday, and Memorial Day!
Thinking: How are you faring, sweetie darlings? Hanging in there? Steel wire rope or shoestring? A bare thread situation? I'm at the equal intersection of oh-wow-spring-how-wonderful and there's-something-heavy-in-the-air-though and wtf-wtf-wtaf and deep-breaths-no-sudden-moves-just-keep-taking-deep-breaths. It's going to be all right, right? Right?
Feeling: Oh gods, I need a hug. Anybody wanna hug? I gotta warn you, I dive in, like really in there, so if squished-breasts-in-chest is not your thing, steer clear. *cheeky grin* (Oh, I know when and where not to, promise. But between friends? Consider yourself well and truly embraced.)
