Four days into my long summer holiday.
Four hundred pages into my eight-hundred-page fantasy novel that is guaranteed to sink me into blissful holiday mood.
Halfway through my first-week-of holiday restlessness.
The sun is undecidedly weaving in and out of clouds. Mornings are chilly dew, fragrance of clover, chittering wagtails. Afternoons are bare feet and coconut sunscreen. Evenings are huddling in a sweater in front of a fire, telling tall tales to family.
I have watered an oak, screamed "eagle!" and crawled on my stomach.
Further adventures await.
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