The scarcity of entries over the last week is due in part to waiting for a replacement camera battery but to a much greater degree, due to keeping the wheels of the island’s production lines turning. Just as my grandfather Enoch was expected to repair everything from church clocks to violins, when all else fails, that “white man at Antrim” is expected to rectify things mechanical.
I quote again Henry David Thoreau lines,
My life has been the poem I would have writ,
But I could not both live and utter it.
The picture is of a cast that I made some weeks ago of a tropical leaf the size of an umbrella. I leave you to guess the material.