trekking with s en route to our neighborhood shop for some winter ale. I have to remind myself to pause and look up sometimes. I run in the snow with my big boots and s stays on the path with his little boots.

Snow is accumulating as I continue working while making some cocoa.

Daily aphorism:

"I would rather sit on a pumpkin and have it all to myself than to be crowded on a velvet cushion".

Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862)

holding on

These photos above were taken just days ago, no more than weeks ago in England, so I am not too completely out of step. Though, this will sadly be my last autumn post of the year.

Those tate trees still have me charmed. This photo magnifies my memory of them. I admit my memory always serves me best when I close my eyes and imagine them, in the chill of London's winter, walking past them in a bit of a rush to the tate, with s, to meet with friends, the warm tea cupped in my hands at the cafe, the dimness of Rothko's red room, Cildo Meireles's many rooms and the many details within. Its all there when I close my eyes. Im glad I took the tate trees home with me though. I think they are worth staring at and admiring as well.

s and I had a very fun late night out with friends in Clerkenwell, London last saturday night, but we are so glad we peeled ourselves out of bed in time to head down to the Borough Market Sunday morning to enjoy the most delicious montgomery cheddar, leek and scallion toasty we have ever tasted. I think I can speak for s when I say we will both be having dreams about that toasty for some time to come. And who said there was anything wrong with indulging in mulled wine before breakfast? The Borough Market was a feast for all senses. I couldn't help but stop to taste the cheeses at every turn, attracting me with their pungent aromas and in fact finding them all with my nose. I would grab a few curds for s and me to try and force feed him cheese samples walking from one crowded corner to the next with my constant and only response from him being a huge grin. For a couple of vegetarians we were seriously tempted to dive into a sausage, they looked and smelled so good.

my feet in london

I have to take pictures of my feet wherever I go. Don't we all? Maybe I do it as a way of reminding myself to never forget where my feet have been, all the small details of steps taken or perhaps to remind myself to never forget how I have been grounded in each step. We are home. It was lovely cooking a vegetable pot pie together and toasting to the last weeks of this busy year in our home last night. S made us our version of mulled wine, warmed Glögg with his choice of red, not quite the mulled wine we tasted at the Borough Market last Sunday, but every bit as delicious in its own rite. S just put on a record and I am knitting gifts and going through photos from our trip. Having just returned it feels silly to already be on the hunt for ale chutney or even better a recipe for ale chutney so we can make ploughmans at home, clotted cream to spread on a warmed scone with black current preserves just like it was at the patisserie.. ornate wallpapers, dark woods, candle lit pubs, the liveliness of Farringdon, Clerkenwell pub fun, Lancaster's medieval charm and friendly faces; I miss England.. our England.