Grateful for Grapefruit

Still can't quite get over the wonder of picking our own grapefruit for Sunday breakfast (he's holding it, but I picked it).

Mike's dressing gown was a gift from his parents long before I met him, in the 70's, before he went to Lesotho, no wonder it's getting a bit raggedy.

Off to Sem Fim in a bit, to complete our usual Sunday of church, Adega, nap, reading and, of course, a breakfast of grapefruit and croissants, kefir and coffee.

Gratefuls:
- pink grapefruit and wild asparagus off our Land
- my favourite Jesus story of water into wine as the gospel reading 
- chatting with Zé Maria at the Adega (he's got toothache, a swollen face, and no intention of seeing a dentist)