Mockingbird Hill Cottage

I had to rearrange things to find a place for the bowl I bought in Paris. There is a lack of available wall and surface space here at the cottage, so if one thing changes or is added, like dominoes, everything shifts. In this case, the potted plant that was in this window moved to the kitchen table. I rather like it there because it adds some height. Fingers crossed that the plant likes it there, as well.

We’re back into our normal routine around here. It’s very nice and we like it, but it’s sure not as exciting as Paris. Don is feeling better, slowly but surely, but I have to remind him to take it easy. You know, you get to that stage in an illness where you feel better and you’re restless, so you want to go and do  a few things, but you find out that you have limited energy to do those things.

That’s where he is.

I miss my hot chocolate (which I’ve stopped drinking because of its sugar content) so I’ve been drinking herbal tea and honey in the afternoon. While he’s been sick, Don has been drinking it, too.

It ain’t hot chocolate. I’ve been trying to put a positive spin on it, but I’m fast getting tired of it. I’m not a fan of tea, though I try to be, as my tea-drinking grandmother would be disappointed. But I am what I am, I suppose.

I tried a sugar-free hot chocolate mix, but the sugar substitute, whatever it was, was so darned sweet – and artificially so – that I stopped drinking it after about two sips. I’ve searched for other options and will keep doing so, but so far I’ve been frustrated. Any tips would be welcome. I really do miss having that ritual as a part of my winter late afternoons.

I’m just about to finish Gaudy Night  – about 100 pages to go. I’m so taken with Dorothy L. Sayers’ style that I now want to read all of her Peter Wimsey books. This one takes place at Oxford, which makes it all the more interesting. I wonder if my wee local library has any editions? I’d like to read them in order, if at all possible.

In the meantime, I have to read an autobiography to review next week.

It’s cold. The trees have lost their leaves. When I walked back up the driveway from the mailbox yesterday afternoon, I heaved out a big sigh. I miss my gardens. I miss green, though the lawn is still pretty green because we’ve had so much rain. We’re now in that sepia/brown stage that gets old very quickly.

Ah well.

Happy Thursday.