This weekend I was meant to be working. Tomorrow morning, Monday, my client will find out that I haven’t done the drawings that I promised to get down. Oh dear. The problem was the weather – it was too beautiful. Sorry Michael – but I think you of all people will understand.
It’s been an amazing late summer week down in Dorset. Unfortunately I’ve been in a lot of extremely lengthy and tedious meetings all week, which made staring out of the window even more frustrating, as August slipped into a soft September and a first real hint of autumn rolled through the valley.
Anyway, yesterday morning I woke up with every good intention to spend some time at the drawing board. But as the sun rose through a pale grey mist, and the air warmed, I had a hunch that this was going to be the last beautiful day of the summer. A day, I am afraid, to spend outside, savouring the air, and the sound of wood pigeons, and harvesting the veg.
I’ve had a bonkers crop of pumpkins and squash; and it was also time to bring in carrots, onions, and maincrop potatoes. It was a perfect warm day to dig everything up. The squash have been baking for a week already, hardening off. And now I have carefully stored everything and taken it down to the cellar. Where, if the books are to be believed, everything will store beautifully until March.
Good bye summer. It is a funny thing, but just when we are ready, the season changes.
This weekend I was meant to be working. Tomorrow morning, Monday, my client will find out that I haven’t done the drawings that I promised to get down. Oh dear. The problem was the weather – it was too beautiful. Sorry Michael – but I think you of all people will understand.
It’s been an amazing late summer week down in Dorset. Unfortunately I’ve been in a lot of extremely lengthy and tedious meetings all week, which made staring out of the window even more frustrating, as August slipped into a soft September and a first real hint of autumn rolled through the valley.
Anyway, yesterday morning I woke up with every good intention to spend some time at the drawing board. But as the sun rose through a pale grey mist, and the air warmed, I had a hunch that this was going to be the last beautiful day of the summer. A day, I am afraid, to spend outside, savouring the air, and the sound of wood pigeons, and harvesting the veg.
I’ve had a bonkers crop of pumpkins and squash; and it was also time to bring in carrots, onions, and maincrop potatoes. It was a perfect warm day to dig everything up. The squash have been baking for a week already, hardening off. And now I have carefully stored everything and taken it down to the cellar. Where, if the books are to be believed, everything will store beautifully until March.
Good bye summer. It is a funny thing, but just when we are ready, the season changes.
