Another ridiculous December occupation: cutting the grass, which in the persisting mild weather has grown on regardless, and in today’s violent wind swished like a small extract from the Great Prairie. It looked vile once the mower savaged it, and the rain came on before the job was finished, but the top did come off the most lank growth and so life may be a little easier when the first cut of the new year comes around.
The seramas are here again. After being penned for the day, they arrive in the kitchen to air off before bed. I gave them some exercise by throwing crumbs, and they skittered and skidded up and down the lino, executing tiny sliding tackles upon one another, and looking indignantly at me when I laughed.