Why I'd like an AGA and the Home Depot

In the morning, when it's cool from night time and the house is quiet (Jeff and our new roommate Andrew sleep later than I do and Bill is in Australia) I have been treating myself to The Shell Seekers (AGAIN) and when I come upon lovely passages like this: She was alone. The relief of it. Home. Her own house, her own possessions, her own kitchen. The Aga, oil-fired, simmered peacefully to itself, and all was blissfully warm. . . . I feel I really need an Aga. I'm thinking one of my sweet blogging UK friends may feature one in a give-away and post it to me when I win. A girl can dream. One of my friends in Washington State has the one below. Her farmhouse kitchen is fancy.

The one pictured below is big, too. Now, I really don't need such a big one.

This one will suit me just fine. How much is the fuel?

Today I found out that one of my favorite bloggers has a new blog (Quiet At Home on the side bar) and I read some of her happy posts. She has been experimenting with washing lines. Isn't the washing line the most beautiful thing EVER? Read Rosamunde Pilcher's description:

A long rope was strung between three of these trees, and here Penelope pegged out her washing. Doing this, on a bright fresh morning, was one of her deepest delights. A thrush was singing, and at her feet, thrusting through the tufty damp grass, bulbs were already beginning to shoot. She had planted these herself, thousands of them; daffodils and crocus and scylla and snowdrops. When these faded and the summer grass grew deep and green, other wildflowers raised their heads. Cowslips and cornflowers and scarlet poppies, all grown from seed that she had scattered herself. Sheets, shirts, pillowcases, stockings, and night-dresses flapped and danced in the thin breeze. When the basket was empty, she picked it up and made her way back to the house, but slowly, in no hurry, visiting first her vegetable garden to check that the rabbits had not been feasting on the young spring cabbage, and then back to pause by her little tree that smelled, miraculously, of summer.

Oh, how I love this book and mine is so tattered and torn, so used, being my favorite novel and all.

On a real life note, we went to Home Depot last night. Kelli wanted to buy a play structure for their back yard. I was overwhelmed by the possibilities right away, so I wheeled the girls around while she decided. Home Depot has everything, but you have to know how to build things. Miss Bug squawked the minute we stopped moving, so we toured around.

The pile of stuff on the flat cart is their swing set. Miss Bug is thinking about a cold treat.

While Kelli paid, I wheeled over to the magazine racks. Can you believe this? Look at all those magazines and guess what? NO British Country Living. Sadness.

Because of a lot of noisy complaining when we got back in the car, we made quick plans to pick up ice cream. Birdie eats "nice" now, but Miss Bug . . .

. . . she starts out okay (note chocolate dipped cone) and then . . .

I've been eating ice cream for lunch. I think I've finally reached my "I've had enough for a while" point, but if I'm tempted, I'll just look at this photo. If you haven't had enough ice cream lately, I strongly encourage you to work on reaching your saturation point. It's so good for the summer soul.