The solstice is really tomorrow

I saw a bee today, a grand, fluffy black and yellow and white queen of a bumblebee, but I do not know if it was the old year's swan-song, or the herald of the new.

The moon, hidden in eclipse, visits twice full.

We had days in the week with frosts at both ends, but not severe enough yet to need an ice-scraper twice. In compensation came a full moon, cosying up to Jupiter early in the week, but moving with its fullness to a point above Orion. It cast witching shadows when I walked out on Friday night and, last evening, back-lit a sky full of lenticuls, like an Austrian blind for astronomers.

Expecting to keep a constant at my age, I find myself decorating cherry cakes in a grid, distinct from my previous radial patterning. The perception of irregularity when eaten in slices is more pleasing than what I learnt at my Mother's knee.

After a furlough that has lasted since July, I am getting sore fingers again from my appalling ebay mandolin. Still trying to convince myself, and, just as importantly, those that have to overhear my efforts, that I can stick with the learning process and emerge improved. Youngest son recently obtained a distinction in his grade 1 guitar and sounds most proficient and pleasant. We expect a change soon though, since the reward for the achievement was a promise of an electric guitar for Christmas.

crisp morning snap

A rainy evening, followed by wide open, dark skies had brushed the car's panels with a frozen wave motive, patterned by Esher. I chipped and scraped at the glaze to the warming hum of the engine.

A kiss, applied by a retreating trick-or-treater to the driver's glass, is almost gone after a half dozen spongings and a scrape. None-the-less, sitting there I still feel loved, whatever the intention, noticing that lipstick makes good anti-freeze.