Stones and cherries

A radicalish thing happened today.  I sat by a pool and read several chapters of a book in the middle of the afternoon.  The first hour was hard.  I felt restless and guilty.  The second was easier and the third went by in a flash of turning pages and the odd dive into water to alleviate the heat.

Meanwhile the boys had been busy at the river and I found these two gifts when I came home.

They'd dredged the hewn block of stone ('sedimentary, probably limestone, ecclesiastical perhaps or part of a fortified wall' - thank you Mr Wild) from the middle of the river, weirdly upstream from the 18th  century stone bridge which it should have logically come from, then came back to the moulin to get the wheelbarrow and a jar which they filled with wild cherries and brought their river bank treasures home.

The stone remains on the wheelbarrow (because it's so darn heavy and I need to think hard about where it's final place is to be) and the wild cherries languished prettily in a bowl in the kitchen (until the fruit flies became bothersome and they joined the compost.)

The best presents ever though.  The boys know how to float my boat.