She produced special oily ham from Spain and I supplied a pair of pears. We ate our picnic listening to a roaring weir and squealing children then I picked my way into the river for my first dip this year.
Sunday Poem
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The Problem with Gratitude It is the mind’s youngest child, one of the most
stubborn of human emotions. Gratitude obeys occasionally and often arrives
late...
5 hours ago
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What a lovely picnic. How is the language transplant going?
ReplyDeletewe gradually emerging as bilingual twins
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