is for Eventfulness.
Life in the mountains is admirably uneventful. But in literature there is no peace and quiet at all. First there were spies, and then The White Company where you could hardly blink without someone setting the keep on fire or kidnapping the king of Navarre. I turned to the more domestic territory of Dear Enemy, and within pages they had burned down the orphanage.
I am going to settle down in the garden this morning with M. Hercule Poirot; that should be a little more sedate.
Herself: I forgot to tell you that in the real book version of Jean Webster there are line drawings, without which the book loses half its charm. They are funny stick figures. Sally Kate’s pigtails are memorable.
is for Botany. There are gentians.
Further than that I cannot commit myself to any definite statement about botany. There are alpine meadows, but no cows because there is no money these days in the dairy industry; however, the house possesses a cow bell which is rung to signal dinner. Sometimes it is rung by the staff, more often by excited small children among the guests.
In the woods there is a flower which might be a convolvulus, a lovely shadowy blue colour, and there is another which is electric blue and purple simultaneously.
The woods are a mixture; larch, beech, pine, some oak. The cuckoo is still in residence and I have learned that it sings cuckoo in German as well (I can’t spell it in German but neither can the cuckoo). Yesterday I saw an animal like a thickset squirrel running up a tree in the woods. It was dark brown on top and lighter underneath, with a bushy tail flatter than a squirrel’s. I think it was a pine marten.
is for Zoology (Alpine). Further to my botanical notes, I am pleased to say that I have seen a cow, with a bell. Also a trout in a pool in a mountain stream. Also a red squirrel and a moth disguised as a leaf (or vice versa). Lastly an enormous bird; nobody could contradict me if I said it was an eagle; but I think it was a buzzard.