The evening is golden, the black cockatoos are back in the valley and their eerie cry lends a mournful air to proceedings.
I am siting on the couch watching the light change on the mountain zombified after a big week at work, Scott has gone down to the Chippie to get dinner as I am too buggered to cook.
We will eat chips and watch Charlie Brooker and then Fantastic Mr Fox while the dogs look on hopefully and scavenge for crumbs.
My forearms are aching from bashing a star picket into the ground by the front steps. The purpose of this picket is to stabilise the sculpture we bought last weekend from local sculptor and all around gorgeous person Jenny Rowe.
Here she is keeping guard over our front steps:
Our acquisition of this artwork it was funded by my Mum as a thank you for the cardigan I knitted for her. I think I said I would post a picture of it ages ago but never got round to it, this is not the best image but here you go:
I continue to work on the shawl for my Nonna and should have it finished in time for her birthday at the end of March.
Anyway dinner has arrived and the warm chip smell is making my mouth water, better tuck in before they go all soggy.