I’ve been listening to some album that Reynard thought I’d find interesting. She was singing some Irishy sounding dirge, low and quite depressing, just perfect given the rainy, cool weather that came upon the Estate over the night. Even Gus, who never grumbles, was unhappy as there’s always work to done around the Estate, especially as Summer is nigh upon us. And one can’t work the gardens in the rain, let alone paint or do other always needed outside maintenance.
It being the weather that I just described, I decided to treat myself to some seriously great tea. What I decided to brew up was a tea that Ingrid, Reynard’s wife who is the Estate Buyer along with being our Steward, had bought a quarter kilo as a birthday gift for me — an organic Darjeeling first flush that I would have most of the time if I could, but at a two hundred pounds a kilogram, it was too costly for everyday drinking.
I made a pot of this tea, poured a mug with just a splash of cream delivered this morning to us from the Riverrun Farm up the coast, and plated up two of the just baked scones with Border strawberry jam. Those are the strawberries that being Fey start red and turn white as bone as they ripen. I retreated to my office, went back to that Irish album, and proceeded to ignore any demands on my time for the few next hours as I watched the rain beat against the windows.