And all the birds are singing, so I sang along
It is my birthday. I am forty-two years old, which makes me the age of I have no idea which fictional characters. I woke to a card from my godmother and a book from
choco_frosh, which delighted me even before I opened it by being an accidentally large print edition formerly of a library in Pontypool. It is a hard year to want to celebrate. I am eating a homemade pear butter sandwich. The sky is overcast, but pieces of autumn keep slipping through.

no subject
(Pear butter om nom nom)
no subject
Thank you!
(Pear butter om nom nom)
(I'd never had it before! A friend of the family made it. Between me and