Some days are tougher than others. Sundays are tough. We always just did our own thing. Just us. Now, there's no us and I'm trying to work on having stuff to do to take my mind off things. This week it was making marmalade - more of that another time. Also, though, I had to get done because angel friends had invited me to join them to watch the sun set and for supper.
We began just sitting on the stoep as the sun sank towards the horizon.
S Says that when she's here, she's happy not moving off the stoep and it's easy to see why. I do love this view when I visit there.
It was soul food to sit, sip wine, natter and just be. And talk about the last while, and how I'm trying to adjust to life without The Husband.
Watching the colours change in the west.
And the full moon rising in the east.
Last time the moon was full, The Husband was still alive.
When the sun set and the children had come home, we moved into the house for supper.
It was good to be part of the bustle of getting supper on a winter's evening.
They love my chilli jam and it still gives me a thrill seeing it on other people's tables. They split their time between the village and Cape Town (their hearts are in the village) and tell me it's a must-have in both places.
My contribution to supper, in addition to a bottle of wine (of course!), was dessert. I knew they like chocolate, so I bought some of my market pal Janet's leftover cake from Saturday's festival. Knowing there'd be six of us, I suspected four slices wouldn't be enough, I also made a few passion fruit curd tarts.
It was good for me to do something constructive.
This is what dessert looked like.
I came home grateful not just for the supper, but for the time spend with people who missed The Husband's presence that evening, too.
Until next time
Fiona
The Sandbag House
McGregor, South Africa
Photo: Selma
Post script
If this post might seem familiar, it's because I'm doing two things:
@artywink
@hive.blog and Canva.