Our friend R’s lovely dog M died quite suddenly yesterday. Everyone loved M: he was a gentle giant, with just the softest ears (I regularly enjoyed stroking them). He was one of Lily’s canine BFFs because he didn’t get in her face but they would happily explore together (as happened last Sunday). She might not understand the concept of missing him but I suspect much of the neighbourhood will.

1. I clean out the chicken’s coop and chop kindling in the short window between rain showers. It feels like winter.

2. Yarn pulled taut on the niddy noddy. I count the strands.

3. Our friend D is in the area for work and pops by afterwards. Even though we think our fridge looks pretty bare for us, he laughs at the size and extravagance of the cheese & meat platter we offer him, and later, the variety of biscuits available for dunking in tea.

3b. To hear how happy he is. He doesn’t have to go to great lengths explaining to us what it is like to miraculously find someone who you want to be with.

4. Bedtime finds us at opposite ends of the sofa but stretched out, facing in, with our legs entwined in the middle.