I'm at my parents' cottage where there's no high speed, no cell reception. Just painfully slow dial-up, a southerly breeze, air that smells like sweet fern*, and many low-lying bushes laden with wild blueberries.
Atticus has learned how to eat berries off the bush, but his oral assault on the bounty has not prevented us from gathering liters and liters with only a little bit of 90% pleasant effort.**
Got to run, I have to put on some socks and read my book. Hope my readers are having a good summer! I'll try writing more in August.***
* An actual type of plant, not my own sentimental adjective applied to "fern". Also, this is one of my favourite scents in the world, so if you want me to love you, roll in it and then hover near my nose.
** 10% unpleasant due to the few horse flies and deer flies that are strong enough to battle the onshore breezes. This 10% can be reduced to less than 2% if you are wearing a sticky deer fly strip on the back of your Cedar Hill Trailer Park trucker hat. Record trapped so far = 13 of those winged bitches! (My sister gathered them on her run down a dirt road.) Nice work!
*** Likely starting mid-August.