Friday, September 26

Timppa works to his own rhythm and, the sun having come weakly out of its cave, he arrived this morning.

I helped him fix the front drain so that it will send water to the drain pipe rather than drop it on the terrace. I don’t have the necessary tools although a part of me wishes I did.

Another part of me recognises that if I did get the tools then I wouldn’t use them nearly enough to either justify the cost or get the experience with them that Timppa has.

After this, and some weeding, I go for a walk in the woods. I pass the spot where Irma and I noticed the ferns had all gone a reddish brown. I stop there again.

On the road the wind has more power than the sun. Here in the woods the sun penetrates where the wind can’t. I stand looking while thinking this.