I’ve been in Amherst Cove this weekend. Heading home today, through Champney’s and Ochre Pit Cove for visits and mineral adventures.

We went to the garlic festival, ate pit-roasted pig[1], picked blueberries, hung out with great friends. There was a mushroom walk and a gardening talk by Ross Traverse. I saw an eagle (twice! Or possibly it was two eagles), and the next day there were boardgames, and I got to sit in a waterfall.

I also put another few cups through a luster firing. I’m almost at the bottom of the bottle now… Hope I don’t need any more for the last few cups.

The blue one is “Introduction à l’ancien français, by Guy Renaud de Lage”, and the other one is “Historical French Reader, by Felix Weill”.

[1] I got one helping of food, then went back to the table where two of the chefs were still busily carving the last bits off the bones. “Do you want some more?” said the lovely man with the big knife. “Oh, any odd bit,” says I. “How about the snout? That’s pretty odd.”

He held up a nostril. I looked at it. It glistened at me. All I could think of was pig snot. But I am not one to turn down food. “Um. I’ll have a little piece. Um. No, littler than that.” I popped it into my mouth before I could think too much more about it.

It tasted like meat.

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