It's not happening this year ...the rain keeps returning, the grey skies reappear again and again.
We've had glimpses of a glorious summer but no, it disappears and is replaced by weather so foul that you forget that you had those warm and promising days.
On the bright side, the garden continues to thrive. The rhubarb, back home, has been prolific. Here in Wallonia, the zucchinis are going crazy too. We fight our way through a reasonably abundant supply of fresh tomatoes and beans. The hens are all laying, so we 4 are dreaming up things to cook with those eggs.
Peach clafoutis and pavlova are at the top of the list, quiche too.
I have set up a work station at the dining room table, here in the light-filled kitchen, keeping company/kept company by the lovely Rwandan woman studying for her examinations. I think we have given up on summer. She mistook this morning's drizzle for snow. That it didn't seem impossible probably tells you how we feel about summer these days.
Anyway, here's a glimpse of the house where I'm staying ... just a corner for now. I have to work out how to photograph it, in all its hugeness, and I need to learn the story of it more precisely. There is a Nobel prize winner involved in its history ...
