But cold, grey, and windy doesn't seem to be conducive to writing today, either. I thought I'd clean the bathroom but that only took five minutes. There's only so much one can do to clean an outhouse. Throw sawdust in the pit. Sweep up the bits of bark and twigs. Squirt the seat with cleaner.
I could go on about my day because I'm pretty sure no one will ever read this blog. But if they do, they probably won't want to hear about how I hauled enough water to fill the pot that sits on the woodstove, and the drinking water jug. Then there was the kindling splitting, and the soup making.
And now it may finally be time to open that bottle of Beaujolais that will help me dream of France.
Thank you for reading.