IN THE MORNING
above the Weser there is mist in the valley. I sit and look and see the shape of it alter and at last disappear. Pure magic? Just a natural phenomenon! Both?!
After lunch Mischa and I walk down the hill, over the Weser bridge, spot the young swan, and go via the harbour to the horses, a pretty climb uphill.
From their shelter, it is windy, they hear us coming, they emerge and eat the carrots, and search in our bags for more.
We buy apples for Mischa's spring cure and new carrots of course.
I doze away on the couch for a minute (or so it felt) and have a light dream.