Yesterday was a day of packing up at one house and schlepping things up a flight of stairs into another. Lots of things. So many that the bikes wouldn't fit in the car, and we'll have to go back to get them.
The morning started off foggy in Inverness, but with a patch of satiny-calm water on Tomales Bay:
And it's that image that I'm using to keep myself unflappable in the face of phone messages (36, mostly solicitors) and mail (a bin-full). We'd settled into such a nice rhythm of the days: slow rising, time for sewing/thinking/writing; lunch; a hike; reading and naps; dinner; more reading; "Foyle's War" streamed on my computer. Repeat. We did a fair number of hikes on our list:
Oh, and the puzzle, which we ingeniously brought home partially done. We slid it from card table to my cutting mat, and it rode home on top of boxes. Now it's in the basement, waiting for my sister and Jerry to take it on again--when? Thanksgiving?
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| From card table to cutting mat |
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| Riding home in the back of my car |
Jerry brought this monstrosity in to show me the last night. He'd captured it at his light sheet:
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| A (gross) cerambycid beetle |
Except for that, we had a lovely time.
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