East, west, home is best

Earlier this evening we had thunder and lightening and torrential rain. We even had hail. It was driven by huge gusts amongst the already strong wind.

It didn't matter to us. We had a roaring fire in the hearth and a belly full of fragrant beef curry. We were warm and dry and snug in our nest.

The rain has now settled into a steady downpour and the wind has blown itself out. The hail and thunderstorms have scudded off to the west.

The fire has collapsed down into a huge heap of red glowing coals. T and Gray are snoring quietly in the spare room and my husband is hidden under the doona in the next room. The dogs are dead to the world on their cushions near the fire and cats are festooned over the backs of chairs.

Soon I will take my weary self off to bed. That pile of goose feathers is looking mighty tempting. I shall join the other in the arms of the Oneiroi.

Sometimes home is just the best place to be.