On Friday (the 13th) the nbn arrived. It was followed, that night, by a much-needed, much-desired storm. Rainfall up here has been poor this summer, dry but weirdly cool; it's a lucky day when you get that much rain in one hit and the garden sighed contentedly. Today is a warm, high summer saturday, st valentine's day (a bloke who was clubbed to death by the Romans, so, not quite so romantic a day in my book). We picked 17 kilos of apples this morning; a jelly of windfalls sits cooling on the kitchen bench but I don't have enough sugar to do much with the remainder. Writing sugar on the shopping list felt wrong given how little we use these days, but jelly requires tonnes of the refined stuff. It will, mostly, be for gifts anyway.
This is the first year we've had good amounts of fruit that the birds haven't got to - enough mulberries to make a decent stash of jam (rice-syrup-and-chia-seed-set, a la Belle Gibson's Whole Pantry); a freezer stacked with bags of blueberries (we also ate them by the handful, fresh); and then there's those apples of which, due to some careful netting, there will be more as the season develops. Lucky. That's how I feel.