Summer is far from over here, it is still 90º in the early afternoon, there is barely a cloud to be seen for days on end, the birds sing in the trees, the dormice screech at dusk and chase each other all around the garden and up into the trees (specifically the males chase the females, just to make it clear), and it is still a great place to wake up in the morning and decide what to do in.
But the sun is setting earlier, the wasps are dying and Hickory has a living to earn, so tomorrow I shall return to civilization to prepare for work. The last lake has been swum in, the last morning glimpse of the countryside through the opening shutter has been taken, the last cold beer has been drunk against the rosy backdrop of the last Manchego sunset. The last scorpion has been removed from the shoe, the last sandwich of ants and clay has been consumed, the last drying t-shirt has been rescued from the middle of a juniper bush, the last punctured bicycle tyre 20 miles from home has been repaired, and the city awaits.
Readers of this blog aren't likely to notice much difference, except that there will be photos once more and I might show some signs of knowing what's going on in the world. Or there again, maybe not.
Subdisciplines of Linguistics.
9 hours ago