A weekend filled with accomplishments was crowned with the simplest Sunday lunch eaten at the right time of day. That time is not in the middle of a precious sun filled November day, but at the end moment when light surreptitiously ceases to be, night arrives and fires are lit. The aromas of a roast chicken with crisp duck fat fried potatoes still linger as I sit with a glass of wine, sated, by the fire writing down my memories of the past two days. There are small moments, such as a neighbour coming across to where I was cutting up firewood to offer me a huge, creamy cauliflower as a gift, and there are momentous moments such as looking at the once drab table that Jenny has metamorphosed, with paint, imagination, time and care into a beautiful piece that sits perfectly in our small house. Those things are amongst the memories that I have of this weekend.