A great cloud hangs over Northampton this week.
damp steals in while we sleep; damp is silent, imperceptible, ubiquitous. Damp swells the wood, furs the kettle, rusts the iron, rots the stone. So gradual is the process, that it is not until we pick up some chest of drawers, or coal scuttle, and the whole thing drops to pieces in our hands, that we suspect even the the disease is at work.”
from Virginia Woolf’s Orlando. for now while i’ve forgotten about the ‘to-do’s’ i’m content to gather myself inside with baby bird, quiet John with eyelashes down into his book and some weak coffee.