A One-Horse Open Yacht

A pleasure which is totally dependent on the season: the boats at their moorings, rigged with extravagant Christmas lights. We pass four marinas on this road, each better than the last, bows and snowmen, one with two reindeer halfway up the mast, icicles, trees, Santas, angels. THAT'S the way to do it.

I bought a fig tree for the gap in my front planting, on the theory that figs like a constricted root space, and do well in rocky soil. Digging for me tomorrow, after I deliver Zany's cushions. It has been a long time since I grubbed around.

It is probably illogical, but I feel the floor is cleaner when I sweep after having made a dreadful mess with threads and scraps and little bits of fill than it is after a normal sweeping. Much as a good storm clears the air.

Another quiet evening, Stefan is working through, Felix is going out, I have Chicken Up Your Bum, baked potatoes and Felix has a chocolate cake all sharing the oven. Let's hope we can coast quietly through the next week and then we go to Incline Village for a few days of luxe, then 2007. How very, very strange.