The shed stood there unfinished as it was left thus in the autumn. My deep hope is that this summer will be warmer and drier than the last one. The swans were back. A woodpecker had been busy in pecking a dry tree trunk but also managed to make two round holes in another tree which seemed to be its home now. When we walked up to the ridge my husband spotted a turban fungus in the sand. I rushed to fetch a bowl to collect all the many others we hadn't spotted yet. There were only four more, so my mushroom sauce at home would remain almost pathetic.
We spent a lovely day raking the ground around the fire place and eating at the fire. I was so happy it was so close to summer and we would be back there again soon when my holiday starts.
One thing had changed this time, though. We didn't have our dear dog with us anymore. Our beloved Jami passed away on a March Saturday at the age of seventeen years, six months and seven days. We had him cremated but we'll bury the ashes later in the summer when we decide the right place.
At home, in our city garden, wood anemones brought from my father's birthplace had burst into flowers in remembrance of my father, who once took me there where he was born in Karelian Isthmus which is in Russia today.
