What winter evenings are for

(Does that mean it's winter?)

Last things on a dark Sunday at 6pm: the old fashioned raisin bars are on top of the stove, cooling, waiting for lemon juice icing. Some for us and some for work. Bevan's spinach gnocchi are in the fridge, firming up before being rolled into shape. Our champagne flutes are waiting for more Veuve Clicquot (thanks Eric!) - to which I added a little sugar with Angostura bitters....Vince is asleep on the daybed. We drank our glasses of bubbly and talked about our trip. Botswana's Okavango delta, the Kruger Park, and all points inbetween were floated. The delta is a bit far-fetched. Which makes me smile. It's deeply expensive now to stay there the way most people do, but recently I read in Go! that an overland do-it-yourself way is possible. But there are lots of Ifs. That's a lot of gas. Gas is cheap here. It ain't there. And we 'd need a car. If not the 4 x 4, the Volkswagen bus. V. pointed out that we can sleep IN the bus if animals are an issue. It's very far. We sipped champagne sitting cross-legged in our jeans, and planned and dreamed.