In the morning I found a cold silver bell, dripping dew, in my garden. Left behind by midnight revellers, it was caught on a vine and played a silken melody to the wind. I picked it like a tiny argent pear. I shall wear it on my charm bracelet and use it to catch Their attention, now and then.

Maman is back. We picked her up yesterday with a big bunch of yellow daisies to apologise for the weather. This morning I saw an owl, she was up late, silently winging home like an errant ghost. I was in the burnt woods. A fire went through here a year ago and the green is only starting to come back. There are broken bits of wall and piping. Its a good place to play.

I like chasing sunsets. I followed this one through the empty streets and down down a steep hill, along a little forsaken alley where someone was sweeping up autumn leaves like molten gold. Autumn is the time of afternoons, of endings. I don’t really like them, they make me sleepy and wistful and a little bit sad. I must try very hard to remember that another dawn is not far away, just on the other side of winter.

I chased the Sunset all the way to my bench in the park, where I like to sit and write. There I lost it behind the trees and the clouds, so I gave up and walked home in the purple twilight.

You might think a swamp is an ugly place, but actually I’m rather fond of the one in my kingdom. It has an eerie dark beauty and I love the way the light filters through the trees onto the water.

This place I call the Sea of Violets. There is a little wooden bridge built so that you can cross it. The frogs croak here sometimes.