20150604.0627

The weather around Sherwood Cottage approaches its late-spring normal. Rain is in the forecast for a few days from now, but until then, the weather is warm and the skies go from morning cloudiness to afternoon clarity so that the sun may play freely over the still-damp ground. The songs of lawnmowers pervade the air from sunup on, a full-day cacophony because the machines are tuned too closely together. How those whose ears work well take in such things is not clear; there are perhaps benefits to certain parts not doing as they ought to do. It is a microcosm of the felix culpa concept, the idea that rising can only happen because of a fall, and so the fall is fortunate. But if we are fortunate at Sherwood Cottage, it is because the rain has fallen and will fall again soon; while flooding presents problems and yards choked with weeks-unmown grass annoy, we are still in a rain deficit in the long term, and the water is welcome (although it could come slowly to better effect).

Work continues, as ever. Another freelance piece is in progress, albeit slow progress. The book read for it, Stephen King's Finders Keepers, is a good one, about which there is much to say. (I will not say it here; I have a job to do with it first. What is left over from the paid work may well go to the unpaid. Or not.) Another freelance piece is in the offing, a correction of work done badly by others. It is not the first such offer I have had, not the first such piece of work there has been for me to do. But it pays well enough, so I do not complain, and there is something flattering in being trusted to make right what has been done wrongly. (If it could result in a continuing-line job, that would be more flattering, but I will take what I can get in the meantime.) And I still look for other work to do; I cannot count on the freelancing, of course, and my "real" job is avowedly contingent and temporary. I am only visiting, after all.

The Mrs. and Ms. 8 are heading off for a few days. There is a wedding for them to attend, a family event where they are expected. I was also invited, of course, but work is as it is, and I am a curmudgeon, hardly good company. (I am still amazed that the Mrs. agreed to become my Mrs. I do not know what I offer that attracts her so. I doubt it is my vast wealth.) They will travel by train--the only civilized way--and meet with her mother and family. The Mrs. looks forward to the occasion. Ms. 8 seems annoyed to have been woken to make the trip. But the train leaves when it leaves, and it takes an hour to get to it from here, so I will have to have them underway soon.

I hope they enjoy it. I hope I can get enough done to make being here while they are there worth being.