And so we got our traditional three-days Internet blackout, for causes still to be defined.
And the orchard’s iron gate was ripped from its place by a passing tractor.
And we are snowed in, under a nice 1 foot snow cover.
And it’s cold as hell.
Basically, just like being in Outer Mongolia, without any or the plus sides.
In all this, I should be writing like hell, and I can’t find the energy – bad health, short of breath, and my hands are icy-cold. And I can’t type in wool gloves.
But apart from this, everything’s fine, as me and my brother hurl towards the first Christmas without our father.
These are not-so-bright days in more sense than one.
But we’ll hold on.