Hell's marmalade never set and the owls are at it again tonight.
I have reboiled the marmalade, re sterilized the jars, repotted the marmalade and re messed up the kitchen then gave up Hope and lobbed the lot into the cupboard.
One good thing came out of the whole sorry saga.
When I was looking in the old wardrobe for jam labels, I found some parcels which were hidden for Christmas. Everyone is delighted.
It is like the Narnia wardrobe and the bottom drawer is where I keep all the things that are either useful or precious (to me). The drawer is so big and difficult to open, I know that nobody bothers to go raking in it. Jam labels and presents are safe.
Small boy is painting a wooden tractor bright red, our daughter has a drawing set and The Farmer has a new pair of February socks. I found some old photos from my childhood so will pour over them later.
All is quiet (apart from the owls).
I like Saturdays like this, they mark the end of another week and slowly we plod on through the winter leaving the darkest nights behind us like old Christmas wrapping paper - forgotten, crumpled.
The cattle are growing fat and indolent in the shed. They are biding their time too until the grass starts to grow and they can be let out, kicking their heels in the air.
There is a fugue like atmosphere.
A stillness interrupted by the gentle hoot of the owls.