Diary!
Summer's clean gone and fall is all over us now, and I haven't written a thing. Shame on me! Though, I shouldn't be too hard on myself. I never thought to be a writer of any sort, or even someone who could know letters.
The brother and sister pair that was here over the summer left when the weather began to turn. They were fair company now and then, but they kept most to themselves. Once in a while they'd sit with me for tea or supper, and I did manage to teach some letters to the fellow. He were a quick learner and thanked me all too much. I wrote a sheet of letters and a few small words for him to take with him, and told him to practice, and he promised he would.
The apple tree is heavy with fruit, and I can't pick them fast enough. I take them to town and sell them for a few pennies, as I surely can't eat or bake or boil or jar them all by myself. I never see anyone at the Soothery across the street anymore, but I left a basket of apples on the stoop, just in case.
I wonder if anyone will come and board over the winter. I don't mind the quiet terribly, but now and then my mind gets to thinking about particular people and then I feel lonely. At least I've got Pumpkin, and she's the dearest little friend anyone could ask for.
It's that time of year, too. Time to go visit Pa and Ma. It's always so hard to do, but it's impossible for me not to go.
I were in town this evening and a man came up to me and spoke. I were taken aback at first because he looked a bit like someone else I once knew. He talked about some place in Gondor that I can't spell here, and the sea, and I suddenly felt all tired in my heart. He offered to sit down and chat, but I said nay. I feel bad about that now. He seemed nice enough.
With the Boarding House empty, I need to be careful with my coin. I can at least bake some pies and make some jams with the apples, and sell those. I'll walk about Knotwood and tell folk I'm good for knitting things for the winter, too. Mittens and hats and scarves and stockings.
