The Shire (176, 178, 180)

It’s rural and idyllic in so many ways here in the Shire, even as life is a bit overwrought with work and an impending minor surgery for Finch.

Cows just outside the garden fence.


(178)

Boys swimming in the river under the twisty Eddlesford Bridge…


(176)

… a bridge, by the way, that requires extremely careful navigation with Finch’s beast of a vehicle. Two cars can’t pass on the bend, but it’s not officially single track. Like so many places here, you have to figure that out through trial and error. And I do spill and do careless things — left the hob burning the other night, apparently, spilled a smoothie in the cooler of the coffee shop the other day, then knocked a flagon of milk across the room, lifted the immersion blender too high this morning while I was making a very blueberry smoothie and sprayed myself and the kitchen and scared the cats — I haven’t yet done anything worse than arrive home with the car latched on with foliage from the over-blooming roadside.

There’s a castle here, and I was charmed to see urban yarn bombing has hit the Shire,


(180)

I’m not sure the phrase “Yarn bomb the castle” has ever been uttered before. But I love that here it mixes urban space-reclaiming with bolstering the wool industry. Full circle of urban/rural life.

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