J9 afternoon. Salmon, crunchy Asian salad, fried capers and crustless tomato tart. Fabulous wines, with the Delair Graff Cab Franc Rose in the sunshine, special. Although, the last touch of Raats Cab Franc was deliciousness.

My portrait painting. Agonizing. Proportions not working. The idea of the painting. In my head. Bogged down. In detail. Rather than fluid strokes of, perhaps. Different. Endless possibilities.
Fast run with the sunrise.

Fire. Wine. Heady stews. Scrumptious. Rich, clear jus begging for that touch of bread.

Days of concern as they try and diagnose the cause of Jenny’s illness. No COVID, or any of the brain crazy diseases. At least she is home and on the road to recovery. Viral Pneumonia blamed.

Perfect conditions for blasting along the contours through the Forest. Tree harvested sections, barren wastelands of grey, bookended by the green Forest floor and canopy. Sunlight between the trees, creating a world of magic. Shoulder happy with the absence of corrugations.